And shews his hard teeth! Strangers, ware, he grips!
Then comes an old friend of the Master’s—hark!
With frolic round and round, the joyous bark!
So with the whole tribe; whether in a glow
Of love they lick their pups; or to and fro
Roll them—mimic rage—and bare, as to glut
Cannibal hunger, teeth in jaws half shut.
All who know but a little of the kind,
And listen to the scolding match, will find
Worlds of difference from the doleful bay