High up, the rainbow had not passed away, When, roving o'er the shingle beach, I found A little waif, a spaniel newly drowned; The shining waters kissed him as he lay.
In some kind heart thy gentle memory dwells, I said, and, though thy latest aspect tells Of drowning pains and mortal agony, Thy master's self might weep and smile to see His little dog stretched on these rosy shells, Betwixt the rainbow and the rosy sea.
_"A man's dog stands by him in prosperity and in poverty, in health and in sickness. He will sleep on the cold ground, where the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely, if only he can be near his master's side. He will kiss the hand that has no food to offer, he will lick the wounds and sores that come in encounter with the roughness of the world. When all other friends desert, he remains. When riches take wings, and reputation falls to pieces, he is as constant in his love as the sun in its journey through the heavens."_
I am quite sure he thinks that I am God-- Since he is God on whom each one depends For life, and all things that his bounty sends-- My dear old dog, most constant of all friends;
Not quick to mind, but quicker far than I To him whom God I know and own; his eye, Deep brown and liquid, watches for my nod; He is more patient underneath the rod
Than I, when God his wise corrections sends. He looks love at me deep as words e'er spake, And from me never crumb or sup will take But he wags thanks with his most vocal tail.
And when some crashing noise wakes all his fear He is content and quiet if I'm near, Secure that my protection will prevail!
So, faithful, mindful, thankful, trustful, he Tells me what I unto my God should be.
If I was sad, then he had grief, as well-- Seeking my hands with soft insistent paw, Searching my face with anxious eyes that saw More than my halting, human speech could tell; Eyes wide with wisdom, fine, compassionate-- Dear, loyal one, that knew not wrong nor hate.
If I made merry--then how he would strive To show his joy; "Good master, let's to play, The world is ours," that gladsome bark would say; "Just yours and mine--'tis fun to be alive!" Our world ... four walls above the city's din, My crutch the bar that ever held us in.