The Dogs Book of Verse | Page 7

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 say:
"Detested creature! he pollutes the earth and
air!"
"His eyes are blear!" "His ears are foul!" "His ribs are bare!" "In
his torn hide there's not a decent shoestring left,
No doubt the
execrable cur was hung for theft."
Then Jesus spake, and dropped on
him the saving wreath:
"Even pearls are dark before the whiteness of
his teeth."
The pelting crowd grew silent and ashamed, like one
Rebuked by
sight of wisdom higher than his own;
And one exclaimed: "No
creature so accursed can be
But some good thing in him a loving eye
will see."
WILLIAM ROUNSEVILLE ALGER.
TO BLANCO
My dear, dumb friend, low-lying there,
A willing vassal at my feet,

Glad partner of my home and fare,
My shadow in the street,

I look into your great, brown eyes,
Where love and loyal homage
shine,
And wonder where the difference lies
Between your soul and
mine.
For all of good that I have found
Within myself, or human kind,

Hath royally informed and crowned
Your gentle heart and mind.
I scan the whole broad earth around
For that one heart which, leal and
true,
Bears friendship without end or bound,
And find the prize in
you.
I trust you as I trust the stars;
Nor cruel loss, nor scoff, nor pride,

Nor beggary, nor dungeon bars,
Can move you from my side.
As patient under injury
As any Christian saint of old,
As gentle as a
lamb with me,
But with your brothers bold.
More playful than a frolic boy,
More watchful than a sentinel,
By
day and night your constant joy
To guard and please me well.
I clasp your head upon my breast,
The while you whine, and lick my
hand;
And thus our friendship is confessed,
And thus we
understand.
Ah, Blanco! Did I worship God
As truly as you worship me,
Or
follow where my Master trod
With your humility,
Did I sit fondly at His feet,
As you, dear Blanco, sit at mine,
And
watch Him with a love as sweet,
My life would grow divine.
J.G. HOLLAND.
THE OULD HOUND
When Shamus made shift wid a turf-hut
He'd naught but a hound to
his name;
And whither he went thrailed the ould friend,


Dog-faithful and iver the same!
And he'd gnaw thro' a rope in the night-time,
He'd eat thro' a wall or a
door,
He'd shwim thro' a lough in the winther,
To be wid his master
wanst more!
And the two, faith, would share their last bannock;
They'd share their
last collop and bone;
And deep in the starin' ould sad eyes
Lean
Shamus would stare wid his own!
And loose hung the flanks av the ould hound
When Shamus lay sick
on his bed--
Ay, waitin' and watchin' wid sad eyes
He'd eat not av
bone or av bread!
But Shamus be springtime grew betther,
And a trouble came into his
mind;
And he'd take himself off to the village,
And be leavin' his
hound behind!
And deep was the whine of the ould dog
Wid a love that was deeper
than life--
But be