But still keep face and murmur not;
Keep stern and still as destiny,
Or iron king of Germany.
It was a sight! A slim dog slid
White-mouth'd and still along the sand,
The pleading picture of distress.
He stopp'd, leap'd up to lick a hand,
A hard black hand that sudden chid
Him back and check'd his tenderness;
But when the black man turn'd his head