THE MISER'S ONLY FRIEND
There watched a cur before the miser's gate--
A very cur, whom all men seemed to hate;
Gaunt, shaggy, savage, with an eye that shone
Like a live coal; and he possessed but one.
His bark was wild and eager, and became
That meager body and that eye of flame;
His master prized him much, and Fang his name,
His master fed him largely, but not that
Nor aught of kindness made the snarler fat.
Flesh he devoured, but not a bit would stay--
He barked, and snarled, and growled it all away.
His ribs were seen extended like a rack,
And coarse red hair hung roughly o'er his back.
Lamed in one leg, and bruised in wars of yore,
Now his sore body made his temper sore.
Such was the friend of him who could not find,
Nor make him one, 'mong creatures of his kind.
Brave deeds of Fang his master often told,
The son of Fury, famed in deeds of old,
From Snatch and Rabid sprung; and noted they
In earlier times--each dog will have his day.
The notes of Fang were to his master known
And dear--they bore some likeness to his own;
For both conveyed, to the experienced ear,
"I snarl and bite because I hate and fear."
None passed ungreeted by the master's door,
Fang railed at all, but chiefly at the poor;
And when the nights were stormy, cold and dark,
The act of Fang was a perpetual bark.
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