A BIT OF A DOG.
The smaller the dog is, the surer to wear
A pushing, important, impertinent air.
I judge from Adolphus—the least of my friends
No sooner begun than he suddenly ends.
There's never a minnow more arrowy-spry,
No needle so sharp as his little black eye.
His wiry legs flicker too quickly to see,
And often he chooses to hirple* on three.
He runs like a leaf blown along in a draught,
Half side-ways, for want of more balancing aft.
His tiny brown body goes lightly on springs,
But his thoughts are concerned with the weightiest
things.
He has to enquire, as he scouts down the street,
The business of every odd dog he may meet.
He's always on business, quick, perky, and trim,
Not walking with you—you accompany him.
At evening his gravity seems to convey
His sense of an active, responsible day.
Oh, long may you dodge death's preposterous dart,
You little brown dog with the high little heart!
-- Holmes, W. Kersley. More Ballads of Field And Billet, And Other Verses. Paisley: Gardner, 1915. p. 60.
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