The Dog's Book of Verse Part 17

_Oh, Indra, and what of this dog? It hath faithfully followed me through; Let it go with me into Heaven, for my soul is full of compa.s.sion._

BILLY

Dear Billy, of imperious bark When stranger's step fell on thy ear; Who oft inspired with wholesome fear A prowling boy in shadows dark:

But oftener hailed with joyous cry Some friendly face returning home, Or, wild with glee, the fields to roam-- Now still and cold thou here dost lie!

Frail vines that from the garden wall Crept blooming o'er thy lowly bed, Elm branches drooping overhead, And dying leaves that wavering fall,

In other forms of life enrolled Shall live in ages yet to be; And shall a mind from body free Lie buried dark beneath the mold?

He loved us all, and none forgot, He guessed whate'er was done or told, Dreamed of adventures free and bold-- For him is there no future lot?

If love is life and thought is mind, And all shall last beyond the years, And memory live in other spheres, My steadfast friend may I not find?

LORENZO SEARS.

THE BOND

When I call my terrier by his name, Or join him at evening play; His eyes will flash with a human flame And he looks what he cannot say; For the bond between us two Is that between me and you!

Should a seraph sing in my ear tonight, Or a sweet voiced angel come.

Would poor speech prove my soul's delight, Or ecstasy drive me dumb?

For the link 'twixt them and me Is long as Eternity.

Wide leagues our sentient forms divide The loftier from the mean; But soul to soul all planes are tied When sympathy lies between; And who shall say that the brute Is soulless, though mean and mute?

GEORGE H. NETTLE.

TO A DOG

On every side I see your trace; Your water-trough's scarce dry; Your empty collar in its place Provokes the heavy sigh.

And you were here two days ago.

There's little changed, I see.

The sun is just as bright, but oh!

The difference to me!

The very print of your small pad Is on the whitened stone.

Where, by what ways, or sad or glad, Do you fare on alone?

Oh, little face, so merry-wise, Brisk feet and eager bark!

The house is lonesome for your eyes, My spirit somewhat dark.

Now, small, invinc'ble friend, your love Is done, your fighting o'er, No more your wandering feet will rove Beyond your own house-door.

The cats that feared, their hearts are high, The dogs that loved will gaze Long, long ere you come pa.s.sing by With all your jovial ways.

Th' accursed archer who has sent His arrow all too true, Would that his evil days were spent Ere he took aim at you!

Your honest face, your winsome ways Haunt me, dear little ghost, And everywhere I see your trace, Oh, well-beloved and lost!

ANONYMOUS.

CANINE IMMORTALITY

And they have drowned thee then at last! poor Phillis!

The burden of old age was heavy on thee, And yet thou shouldst have lived! What though thine eye Was dim, and watched no more with eager joy The wonted call that on thy dull sense sunk With fruitless repet.i.tion, the warm sun Might still have cheered thy slumber; thou didst love To lick the hand that fed thee, and though past Youth's active season, even life itself Was comfort. Poor old friend! How earnestly Would I have pleaded for thee! thou hadst been Still the companion of my childish sports: And as I roamed o'er Avon's woody cliffs, From many a day-dream has thy short quick bark Recalled my wandering soul. I have beguiled Often the melancholy hours at school, Soured by some little tyrant, with the thought Of distant home, and I remembered then Thy faithful fondness: for not mean the joy, Returning at the pleasant holidays, I felt from thy dumb welcome. Pensively Sometimes have I remarked the slow decay, Feeling myself changed, too, and musing much, On many a sad vicissitude of life!

Ah, poor companion! when thou followedst last Thy master's parting footsteps to the gate Which closed forever on him, thou didst lose Thy truest friend, and none was left to plead For the old age of brute fidelity!

But fare thee well! Mine is no narrow creed; And He who gave thee being did not frame The mystery of life to be the sport Of merciless man! There is another world For all that live and move--a better one!

Where the proud bipeds, who would fain confine Infinite goodness to the little bounds Of their own charity, may envy thee!

ROBERT SOUTHEY.

A FRIENDLY WELCOME

'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come.

LORD BYRON.

EXEMPLARY NICK

Here lies poor Nick, an honest creature, Of faithful, gentle, courteous nature; A parlor pet unspoiled by favor, A pattern of good dog behavior, Without a wish, without a dream, Beyond his home and friends at Cheam.

Contentedly through life he trotted, Along the path that faith allotted, Till time, his aged body wearing, Bereaved him of his sight and hearing, Then laid him down without a pain To sleep, and never wake again.