XX
Yet be blessed to the height
Of all good and all delight
Pervious to thy nature;
Only _loved_ beyond that line,
With a love that answers thine,
Loving fellow-creature!
ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING.
FRANCES
You were a friend, Frances, a friend,
With feeling and regard and capable of woe.
Oh, yes, I know you were a dog, but I was just a man.
I did not buy you; no, you simply came,
Lost, and squatted on my doorstep.
The place was strange--you quivered, but stayed on,
And I had need of you.
No other fellow could make you follow him,
For you had chosen me to be your pal.
My whistle was your law,
You put your paw
Upon my palm,
And in your calm, deep eyes was writ
The promise of long comradeship.
When I came home from work,
Late and ill-tempered,
Always I heard the patter of your feet upon the oaken stairs;
Your nose was at the door-crack;
And whether I'd been bad or good that day
You fawned, and loved me just the same.
It was your way to understand.
And if I struck you, my harsh hand
Was met with your caresses.
You took my leavings, crumb and bone,
And stuck by me through thick and thin--
You were my kin.
And then one day you died
And were put deep.
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