O sepulchre, spacious and roomy
For thee and thy kind!
Thou wert fair ere the doleful disaster,
Firm thy muscles, thy bones featly set,
And they moved at the voice of thy master
Though obedience were tinged with regret.
What moved him, old dog, to thy slaughter,
To cast to the pike and the eel?
When o’er thy bright form closed the water
No remorse did he feel?