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Show THE DOG By Louis Dodge. What is it in the presence of this wistful-eyed lit tle black dog That lies near my feet, regarding me steadily between be-tween intervals of sleep, That has taken such firm possession of me? What can it be? Not alone his fidelity, surely though he lies on . the stairs Just outside my door while I sleep and will not stir until I appear. Not his need for me: for is not the earth filled with needy creatures? Not his responsiveness: though he leaps for joy when I am glad, And draws apart solemnly and broods and watches me when I am troubled. Not his joyousness; though he barks and whines 'his delight When I permit him to go with me, and becomes a very picture of gladness As he runs on ahead, and pauses, with one forefoot fore-foot lifted, And his whole body eloquent with questioning, as heSvaits for me. Not his Iiumble burdens though. J -cannot. bearto hear his dreamy whimper When he lies asleep and passes through imaginary imagin-ary ordeals. Not his capacity for repose though he can wait and wait patiently While I am away and he cannot know how I fare or when I shall return. Not the gallant courage of him though he knows how to be glad Without fear of the 'morrow, and without brooding brood-ing over his prospects. Not because of his honest humility though he asks for no food Save when I have sat at table: and then only as if he asked for companionship Rather than for material benefits. What is it in the little fond creature which gladdens glad-dens me And makes big evils trivial, as long as he lies hero on his rug? Can it be that those who threw away my love and spurned me Left that which was best in me where this little dog could find it? Can it be that when the betrayals of life took much of my soul from me This poor dumb creature rescued it, to watch over it for me? Can it be that when I cast fond dreams away from me (Continued on page 11.) THE DOG (Continued from page 9.) He gathered them up that they should not be utterly ut-terly lost? I have heard that the Creator has many mysterious myste-rious processes In dealing with those who are said to be His children. chil-dren. Is it quite impossible that this dog, my unjudg-ing unjudg-ing companion, Has gathered together the things of which I was careless, And that it is something of Mo that lies on the stairs at night outside my chamber, And that remains stanchly waiting for me when I turn the light low and fare forth at night? From The St. Louis Mirror. |
