Rover and I, under shadowy yew,

List'ning for Harry's dear step on the path—

He always hears it the first of the two,

Which gives me a feeling half joy, half wrath.

[pg 35]

By divers states can our spirits be mov'd

Our hearts will answer to many a touch;

We love one creature for being much lov'd,

And we love another for loving much.

By delicate touches our souls are stirr'd,

Fraught with a meaning life never reveals:

I wonder the Bible says not a word

Of the faithful love that a good dog feels.

[pg 36]

Good are the mornings for birds in a nest,

Fluttering out from a beautiful home;

Good are the mornings, but evenings are best,

Seeking its shelter nor asking to roam.

Life, like a secret, is too much for one—

May be too little where numbers are great—

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