Not as a peer, neither cringing like slave
One solemn boon, as the last he may crave,
Little dog Tray sits and moans on your grave
Sad is the way of his tail.
When at the close of a wearisome day
Homeward, disheartened, you moodily stray,
What would you take for your little dog Tray?
Take for the wag of his tail?
—By Walter P. Neff.
