by Pa Rock
Poetry Appreciator
Today is National Dog Day, a wonderful opportunity to present a poetic tribute to the noble animal that truly is man's best friend - and there are literally thousands and thousands of really good dog poems from which to choose. Robert W. Service, "the bard of the Yukon," penned this sentimental ode to the species that has always held such a warm spot in the heart of man. His poignant words easily describe most of the vagrant mongrels who wander through our lives seeking nothing more than food, water, shelter, and affection - and, in return, offering a lifetime of love.
Here's to you Lassie, Old Yeller, Greyfriars Bobby, and Marmaduke - and all of your cousins, real or imagined. May your day be very, very special!
My Dog
by Robert W. Service
Poetry Appreciator
"A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself." Josh Billings
"Owners of dogs will have noticed that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they will think that you are god. Whereas owners of cats are compelled to realize that, if you provide them with food and water and shelter and affection, they draw the conclusion that they are gods." Christopher Hitchens
Today is National Dog Day, a wonderful opportunity to present a poetic tribute to the noble animal that truly is man's best friend - and there are literally thousands and thousands of really good dog poems from which to choose. Robert W. Service, "the bard of the Yukon," penned this sentimental ode to the species that has always held such a warm spot in the heart of man. His poignant words easily describe most of the vagrant mongrels who wander through our lives seeking nothing more than food, water, shelter, and affection - and, in return, offering a lifetime of love.
Here's to you Lassie, Old Yeller, Greyfriars Bobby, and Marmaduke - and all of your cousins, real or imagined. May your day be very, very special!
My Dog
by Robert W. Service
'Twas in a pub just off the
Strand
When I was in my cups,
There passed a bloke with in his hand
Two tiny puling pups;
And one was on me with a bound,
Seeking to lick my face,
And so I bought him for a pound
And took him to my place.
Three acres by the shore I own,
A hut, a pint wood;
And there for fifteen years alone
He shared my solitude.
It was his own, his only world,
And when with hunting spent,
Each night beside my bed he curled,
And slept in sheer content.
My dog is dead. Though lone I be
I'll never have another;
For with his master-worship he
Was closer than a brother.
My foot is frail and I am old,
Yet how my heart can pity
Pups straining on a short leash-hold
And pent up in the city.
From all thought of self above,
And purged of sex emotion,
I know no form of living love
So deep as dogs devotion.
I have no hope at all of heaven,
I've lived in sin and strife;
But thank God! I at least have given
One dog a happy life.
When I was in my cups,
There passed a bloke with in his hand
Two tiny puling pups;
And one was on me with a bound,
Seeking to lick my face,
And so I bought him for a pound
And took him to my place.
Three acres by the shore I own,
A hut, a pint wood;
And there for fifteen years alone
He shared my solitude.
It was his own, his only world,
And when with hunting spent,
Each night beside my bed he curled,
And slept in sheer content.
My dog is dead. Though lone I be
I'll never have another;
For with his master-worship he
Was closer than a brother.
My foot is frail and I am old,
Yet how my heart can pity
Pups straining on a short leash-hold
And pent up in the city.
From all thought of self above,
And purged of sex emotion,
I know no form of living love
So deep as dogs devotion.
I have no hope at all of heaven,
I've lived in sin and strife;
But thank God! I at least have given
One dog a happy life.
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