His out-stretch'd hand has caught it now;
The branch gives way--the he-ro falls!

The fright-en'd chil-dren ut-ter cries,
But e-ven yet he does his best;
His vic-tor hand re-tains the prize,
And clasps it to his faith-ful breast.

Laid on his bed, com-pos'd, though sad,
With bro-ken leg and in-jured back,
We find a lit-tle pa-tient lad,
A-las, no long-er "Mon-key Jack!"

[Illustration]

With books and toys, what-e'er is best,
His com-rades seek him, one and all,
And shy-ly peep-ing through the rest,
Poor lit-tle Ro-sa brings her ball.

Placed at the win-dow, day by day,
While pil-lows raise his wea-ry head,
His wist-ful eyes be-hold the play
Which once with joy-ous heart he led.

And in his hand the ball is laid,
And if to fling it is his whim,
The sig-nal is at once obey'd,
With ea-ger feet they run to him.