The Dogs Book of Verse | Page 6

life from her; then, at her feet?He followed close, all down the cruel street,?Her one friend in that city.
But the King,?Riding within his litter, marked this thing,?And how the woman, on her way to die?Had such compassion for the misery?Of that parched hound: "Take off her chain, and place?The veil once more about the sinner's face,?And lead her to her house in peace!" he said.?"The law is that the people stone thee dead?For that which thou hast wrought; but there is come?Fawning around thy feet a witness dumb,?Not heard upon thy trial; this brute beast?Testifies for thee, sister! whose weak breast?Death could not make ungentle. I hold rule?In Allah's stead, who is 'the Merciful,'?And hope for mercy; therefore go thou free--?I dare not show less pity unto thee."
As we forgive--and more than we--?Ya Barr! Good God, show clemency.
SIR EDWIN ARNOLD.
BEAU AND THE WATER LILY
The noon was shady, and soft airs?Swept Ouse's silent tide,?When 'scaped from literary cares?I wandered on his side.
My spaniel, prettiest of his race,?And high in pedigree?(Two nymphs adorned with every grace?That spaniel found for me)
Now wantoned, lost in flags and reeds,?Now starting into sight,?Pursued the swallow o'er the meads?With scarce a slower flight.
It was the time that Ouse displayed?His lilies newly blown;?Their beauties I intent surveyed,?And one I wished my own.
With cane extended far I sought?To steer it close to land;?But still the prize, though nearly caught,?Escaped my eager hand.
Beau marked my unsuccessful pains?With fixed, considerate face,?And puzzling, set his puppy brains?To comprehend the case.
But with a chirrup clear and strong?Dispersing all his dream,?I thence withdrew, and followed long?The windings of the stream.
My ramble ended, I returned;?Beau trotting far before?The floating wreath again discerned,?And, plunging, left the shore.
I saw him, with that lily cropped,?Impatient swim to meet?My quick approach, and soon he dropped?The treasure at my feet.
Charmed with the sight, "The world," I cried,?"Shall hear of this thy deed;?My dog shall mortify the pride?Of man's superior breed:
"But chief myself I will enjoin?Awake at duty's call,?To show a love as prompt as thine?To Him who gives me all."
WILLIAM COWPER.
PETRONIUS
A dog there was, Petronius by name--?A cur of no degree, yet which the same?Rejoiced him; because so worthless he?That in his worthlessness remarkably?He shone, th' example de luxe of how a cur?May be the very limit of a slur?Upon the honored name of dog; a joke?He was, a satire blasphemous; he broke?The records all for sheer insulting "bunk;"?No dog had ever breathed who was so punk!
And yet that cur, Petronius by name,?Enkindled in his master's heart a flame?Of love, affection, reverence, so rare?That had he been an angel bright and fair?The homage paid him had been less; you see?The red-haired boy who owned him had a bee--?There was no other dog on land or sea.?Petronius was solid; he just was?The dog, the only dog on earth, because--?Because a red-haired boy who likes his dog,?He likes that dog so much no other dog?Exists--and that, my friends, is loyalty,?Than which there is no grander ecstasy.
FREDERIC P. LADD.
MY DOG
Here is a friend who proves his worth?Without conceit or pride of birth.?Let want or plenty play the host,?He gets the least and gives the most--
He's just a dog.
He's ever faithful, kind and true;?He never questions what I do,?And whether I may go or stay,?He's always ready to obey
'Cause he's a dog.
Such meager fare his want supplies!?A hand caress, and from his eyes?There beams more love than mortals know;?Meanwhile he wags his tail to show
That he's my dog.
He watches me all through the day,?And nothing coaxes him away;?And through the night-long slumber deep?He guards the home wherein I sleep--
And he's a dog.
I wonder if I'd be content?To follow where my master went,?And where he rode--as needs he must--?Would I run after in his dust
Like other dogs.
How strange if things were quite reversed--?The man debased, the dog put first.?I often wonder how 'twould be?Were he the master 'stead of me--
And I the dog.
A world of deep devotion lies?Behind the windows of his eyes;?Yet love is only half his charm--?He'd die to shield my life from harm.
Yet he's a dog.
If dogs were fashioned out of men?What breed of dog would I have been??And would I e'er deserve caress,?Or be extolled for faithfulness
Like my dog here?
As mortals go, how few possess?Of courage, trust, and faithfulness?Enough from which to undertake,?Without some borrowed traits, to make
A decent dog!
JOSEPH M. ANDERSON.
CHARITY'S EYE
One evening Jesus lingered in the marketplace,?Teaching the people parables of truth and grace,?When in the square remote a crowd was seen to rise,?And stop with loathing gestures and abhorring cries.?The Master and his meek disciples went to see?What cause for this commotion and disgust could be,?And found a poor dead dog beside the gutter laid--?Revolting sight! at which each face its hate betrayed.
One held his nose, one shut his eyes, one turned away,?And all among themselves began to