And that’s the very Pony, too! 
  Where is she, where is Betty Foy? 
  She hardly can sustain her fears;
  The roaring waterfall she hears, 360
  And cannot find her Idiot Boy.

  Your Pony’s worth his weight in gold: 
  Then calm your terrors, Betty Foy! 
  She’s coming from among the trees,
  And now all full in view she sees 365
  Him whom she loves, her Idiot Boy.

  And Betty sees the Pony too: 
  Why stand you thus, good Betty Foy? 
  It is no goblin, ’tis no ghost,
  ’Tis he whom you so long have lost, 370
  He whom you love, your Idiot Boy.

  She looks again—­her arms are up—­
  She screams—­she cannot move for joy;
  She darts, as with a torrent’s force,
  She almost has o’erturned the Horse, 375
  And fast she holds her Idiot Boy.

  And Johnny burrs, and laughs aloud;
  Whether in cunning or in joy
  I cannot tell; but while he laughs,
  Betty a drunken pleasure quaffs 380
  To hear again her Idiot Boy.

  And now she’s at the Pony’s tail,
  And now is [31] at the Pony’s head,—­
  On that side now, and now on this;
  And, almost stifled with her bliss, 385
  A few sad tears does Betty shed.

  She kisses o’er and o’er again
  Him whom she loves, her Idiot Boy;
  She’s happy here, is happy there, [32]
  She is uneasy every where; 390
  Her limbs are all alive with joy.

  She pats the Pony, where or when
  She knows not, happy Betty Foy! 
  The little Pony glad may be,
  But he is milder far than she, 395
  You hardly can perceive his joy.

  “Oh!  Johnny, never mind the Doctor;
  You’ve done your best, and that is all:” 
  She took the reins, when this was said,
  And gently turned the Pony’s head 400
  From the loud waterfall.

  By this the stars were almost gone,
  The moon was setting on the hill,
  So pale you scarcely looked at her: 
  The little birds began to stir, 405
  Though yet their tongues were still.

  The Pony, Betty, and her Boy,
  Wind slowly through the woody dale;
  And who is she, betimes abroad,
  That hobbles up the steep rough road? 410
  Who is it, but old Susan Gale?

  Long time lay Susan lost in thought; [33]
  And many dreadful fears beset her,
  Both for her Messenger and Nurse;
  And, as her mind grew worse and worse, 415
  Her body—­it grew better.

  She turned, she tossed herself in bed,
  On all sides doubts and terrors met her;
  Point after point did she discuss;
  And, while her mind was fighting thus, 420
  Her body still grew better.