Aye, hoping to console her for its fate,
With mingled doubts and fears I dedicate
These verses.
“And indeed it seems to me
A most ideal kind of dog to be
Which she has lost; not highly bred, indeed—
But who, with sense, cares aught for birth or breed?
I, as a poet, such vain things despise,
And hold them low as titles in my eyes;
Enough to know the dog at heart was true