Page:Shepherd Lubin and his dog Tray.pdf/8



But not a sign of lurking life, Thro’ all his frame he found to creep; He knew not what it was to die, But knew his master did not deep.

For still had he his slumbers watch’d, Through many a long and dismal night; And rous’d him from the pallet hard. To meet his toil e’er morning light.

And well his brain remember’d yet, He never patter’d tow’rds his bed; Or lodg’d his long face on his cheek, But straight he stirr’d, or rais’d his head.

Yes, he remember’d and with tears, His loving master’s kind replies; When dumbly he contriv’d to say, “The cock has crew’d, my master rise!”

But now the paw, the scratch, the whine, To howlings chang’d, alone can tell The suff'rings of instinctive love, When fruitless prov’d its simple spell.

Great grief assail’d his untaught heart, And quickly laid its victim low! His master’s cheek, his pillow cold, Their common bed the colder snow!