Classic Poem

Not for the anguish suffered is the slur,
Not for the woman's taunts, the mocks of men;
No, but because you never welcomed her,
Her of whose beauty I am only the pen.

There was a dog, dog-minded, with dog's eyes,
Damned by a dog's brute-nature to be true.
Something within her made his spirit wise;
He licked her hand, he knew her; not so you.

When all adulterate beauty has gone by,
When all inanimate matter has gone down.
We will arise and walk, that dog and I,
The only two who knew her in the town.

We'll range the pleasant mountain side by side,
Seeking the blood-stained flowers where Christs have died.