DOGGEREL.
To the Prime Minister's St. Bernard Pup.
Ere your native country figured as the home of winter sport,
Paradise of spies and agents, and for kings a last resort;
Ere the hospitable chamois lent his haunts to Bolsh and Hun
Or the queue of rash toboggans took the curve of Cresta Run;
Long before a locomotive climbed the Rigi, cog by cog,
Fame had mentioned your forefathers—such a noble breed of dog,
How they tracked the lonely traveller with their nimble, sleuthy snouts,
Till beneath a billowy snowdrift they remarked his whereabouts.