The Blue Poetry Book. Lang Andrew

      Like a lady’s ringlets brown,

      Flow thy silken ears adown

      Either side demurely,

      Of thy silver-suited breast

      Shining out from all the rest

      Of thy body purely.

      Darkly brown thy body is,

      Till the sunshine, striking this,

      Alchemise its dulness, —

      When the sleek curls manifold

      Flash all over into gold,

      With a burnished fulness.

      Underneath my stroking hand,

      Startled eyes of hazel bland

      Kindling, growing larger, —

      Up thou leapest with a spring,

      Full of prank and curvetting,

      Leaping like a charger.

      Leap! thy broad tail waves a light;

      Leap! thy slender feet are bright,

      Canopied in fringes.

      Leap – those tasselled ears of thine

      Flicker strangely, fair and fine,

      Down their golden inches.

      Yet, my pretty sportive friend,

      Little is’t to such an end

      That I praise thy rareness!

      Other dogs may be thy peers

      Haply in these drooping ears,

      And this glossy fairness.

      But of thee it shall be said,

      This dog watched beside a bed

      Day and night unweary, —

      Watched within a curtained room,

      Where no sunbeam brake the gloom

      Round the sick and dreary.

      Roses, gathered for a vase,

      In that chamber died apace,

      Beam and breeze resigning —

      This dog only, waited on,

      Knowing that when light is gone,

      Love remains for shining.

      Other dogs in thymy dew

      Tracked the hares and followed through

      Sunny moor or meadow —

      This dog only, crept and crept

      Next a languid cheek that slept,

      Sharing in the shadow.

      Other dogs of loyal cheer

      Bounded at the whistle clear,

      Up the woodside hieing —

      This dog only, watched in reach

      Of a faintly uttered speech,

      Or a louder sighing.

      And if one or two quick tears

      Dropped upon his glossy ears,

      Or a sigh came double, —

      Up he sprang in eager haste,

      Fawning, fondling, breathing fast,

      In a tender trouble.

      And this dog was satisfied,

      If a pale thin hand would glide,

      Down his dewlaps sloping, —

      Which he pushed his nose within,

      After, – platforming his chin

      On the palm left open.

      This dog, if a friendly voice

      Call him now to blyther choice

      Than such chamber-keeping,

      ‘Come out!’ praying from the door,

      Presseth backward as before,

      Up against me leaping.

      Therefore to this dog will I,

      Tenderly not scornfully,

      Render praise and favour!

      With my hand upon his head,

      Is my benediction said

      Therefore, and for ever.

      And because he loves me so,

      Better than his kind will do

      Often, man or woman, —

      Give I back more love again

      Than dogs often take of men, —

      Leaning from my Human.

      Blessings on thee, dog of mine,

      Pretty collars make thee fine,

      Sugared milk make fat thee!

      Pleasures wag on in thy tail —

      Hands of gentle motions fail

      Nevermore, to pat thee!

      Downy pillow take thy head,

      Silken coverlid bestead,

      Sunshine help thy sleeping!

      No fly’s buzzing wake thee up —

      No man break thy purple cup,

      Set for drinking deep in.

      Whiskered cats arointed flee —

      Sturdy stoppers keep from thee

      Cologne distillations!

      Nuts lie in thy path for stones,

      And thy feast-day macaroons

      Turn to daily rations!

      Mock I thee, in wishing weal? —

      Tears are in my eyes to feel

      Thou art made so straitly,

      Blessing needs must straiten too, —

      Little canst thou joy or do,

      Thou who lovest greatly.

      Yet be blessed to the height

      Of all good and all delight

      Pervious to thy nature, —

      Only loved beyond that line,

      With a love that answers thine,

      Loving fellow-creature!