OLD TRIM.
Here's brave old Trim: I once with him
Was walking near the docks;
We heard a cry, both Trim and I,—
The cry that always shocks.
"Help! boat, ahoy! See, there's a boy:
Make haste, he's going down."
"There! watch him, Trim! in after him!
We must not let him drown."
Through foam and splash Trim's quick eyes flash:
He strikes out to the place;
And round and round, with eager bound,
He watches for a trace.
A little hand comes paddling up,
A face so wild and wan:
"Ah, Trim, he's there! Make haste, take care;
And save him if you can!"
Oh! brave and bold, he seizes hold;
His teeth are firmly set:
Now bear him near; there is no fear:
The boy is breathing yet.
"Bravo, good Trim!" They welcome him,
And clasp him round for joy;
Then homeward bear, with tender care,
The pale, half-conscious boy.
O faithful Trim! "Would I sell him?"
Inquired a curious elf:
"What, sell," I cried, "a friend so tried!
I'd rather sell myself."
Geo. Bennett.
