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 passing 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.