Classic Poem

As I was wont to straggle out
To your house, oh! how glad the dog,
With low-put nose, would nimbly jog
Along my path, and hunt about;
And his great pleasure was to run
By elmy hedge and banky ledge;
And ended where my own begun,
At your old door, and stonen floor.

And there, as time was gliding by,
With me so quick, with him so slow,
How he would look at me, and blow,
From time to time, a whining sigh:
That meant, ‘Now come along the land,
With sunny knolls, and rabbit holes;
I can't think what you have on hand,
With this young face, in this old place.’