He never had too big a load To ease the traveller on the road; His hearth was warm—so was his bed And no one left his house unfed. He did not gossip—if he talked ’Twas well advised—he never knocked; He never knocked nor did he raise At any time his voice in praise; The little gracious things folks say, He left them out—it was his way.
He left so many out that they Who shared his roof from day to day, Went hungering in their souls the while For just a pleasant word or smile. It was as if he’d gone and made A covenant with God to aid His fellowman—so far as he Could help that man materially; But as for giving from his store Those gifts the heart keeps longing for— And lacking which goes beggaring— Well that was quite another thing.
Somehow I think that such an one Leaves half his task in life undone.
THE MAN WHO POISONS DOGS
The whelp who did the trick, I think he knows— I think he feels it everywhere he goes. A dog knows he’s a dog—there’s no pretend, He starts out dog and he’s dog to the end. At that, he’s got a dog’s sense of what’s right And lives dog-loyalty according to his light. And when a man less than a dog, he knows— Though he may look like man and wear man’s clothes, He knows the scut he is beneath it all. The dog knew too—that’s why he tried to crawl Back home—up to his kennel by the shed— Dragged all the way—just like a lump of lead, Because no self-respecting, decent hound Would want to die upon his poisoner’s ground If he could get away. Just what the use Was, doing it—or what kind of excuse He had, is more than I can figure out. We raised that yellow hound—he’s gone about For five years now and he was decent stuff, And there’s no reason I know good enough For what he got. A poisoner’s not the kind To say—“That yellow cur of yours—you’ll find Him here—I murdered him!” Or else—“That hound You’ve got up there—I poisoned him, I found Him running round my stable-yard today.” When he’s through with his job, he doesn’t say Those things, because it’s not a poisoner’s way— His secret’s kept between himself and God And that dumb brute that rots beneath the sod.