To Your Dog and To My Dog Part 5

From _America the Beautiful and Other Poems_

BY KATHARINE LEE BATES

By permission of the Author, and of the Publishers THOMAS Y. CROWELL COMPANY, New York

LADDIE

Lowly the soul that waits At the white, celestial gates, A threshold soul to greet Beloved feet.

Down the streets that are beams of sun Cherubim children run; They welcome it from the wall; Their voices call.

But the Warder saith: "Nay, this Is the City of Holy Bliss.

What claim canst thou make good To angelhood?"

"Joy," answereth it from eyes That are amber ecstasies, Listening, alert, elate, Before the gate.

_Oh, how the frolic feet On lonely memory beat!

What rapture in a run 'Twixt snow and sun!_

"Nay, brother of the sod, What part hast thou in G.o.d?

What spirit art thou of?"

It answers: "Love,"

Lifting its head, no less Cajoling a caress, Our winsome collie wraith, Than in glad faith

The door will open wide, Or kind voice bid: "Abide, A threshold soul to greet The longed-for feet."

_Ah, Keeper of the Portal, If Love be not immortal, If Joy be not divine, What prayer is mine?_

DAVY

BY LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY

From _Century Magazine_

By permission of the Author, and of THE CENTURY COMPANY New York

DAVY

Davy, her knight, her dear, was dead: Low in dust was the silken head.

"Isn't there heaven,"

(She was but seven) "Isn't there" (sobbing) "for dogs?" she said.

"Man is immortal, sage or fool: Animals end, by different rule."

So had they prated Of things created, An hour before, in her Sunday-school.

Trusty and glad and true, who could Match her hero of hardihood, Rancorless, selfless, Prideless, pelfless?-- How I should like to be half so good!

Firebrand eye and icicle nose; Ear inwrought like a guelder-rose; All the sweet wavy Beauty of Davy;-- Sad, not to answer whither it goes!

"Isn't there heaven for dogs that's dead?

G.o.d made Davy, out of His head: If He unmake him, Doesn't He take him?

Why should He throw him away?" she said.

The birds were busy, the brook was gay, But the little hand was in mine all day.

Nothing could bury That infinite query: "Davy,--_would_ G.o.d throw him away?"

A FRIEND

BY ZITELLA c.o.c.kE

From _The Youth's Companion_

By permission of the Author and of _The Youth's Companion_

A FRIEND

"Your invitation, sir, to dine With you to-night I must decline Because to-day I lost a friend-- A friend long known and loved;" thus penned The good Sir Walter, aptly named The Wizard of the North, and famed For truest, gentlest heart, among The homes that love the English tongue.

Great heart, that felt the soul of things In all its high imaginings, And showed, mid vexing stress and strife Of worldly cares, a hero's life!

An humble friend it was he loved, And oft together they had roved The heather hills and sweet brae side, Or braved the rushing river's tide, And many a frosty winter night Sat musing by the warm firelight-- A faithful friend, whom chance and change Of fleeting years could ne'er estrange.

For he who once has gained the love And friendship of a dog shall prove Thro' joy and sorrow to the end The deep devotion of a friend.

What is it? More than instinct fine, This something man cannot divine, Which speaks from eyes where lips are mute, Which makes the creature we name brute The n.o.blest pattern we may see Of loving, lasting loyalty.

We dare not call it mind or soul, We know not what or where its goal, But aye we know its little span Of life spells large--Friendship to man; Nor wonder Scott, in grief, should say, "I lost a much-loved friend to-day!"

THE BATH

BY R. C. LEHMANN