Classic Poem

I

When my last reckoning has been figured out —
(I mean on earth, not in more lenient heaven,
Where unto much love much shall be forgiven) —
And men, ere they forget me, gathered about
My memory, my modest virtues flout,
And count my modest sins as sins of seven,
Let someone plead, though the hour strike eleven,
" Well, he was fond of dogs, without a doubt. "

May you be there, dear Pal, to wag your tail
In confirmation — you, in whom I saw
At first the wolf of Little Red Riding Hood —
Who, (as I write), with eyes that never fail
Of gentleness, soft cheek and lifted paw
Beg to be petted and be understood.

II

Petted and understood: what greater need
Have doggies? How a modicum of praise
Reveals their gratitude, in pretty ways,
The substitute of smiles! They crave, indeed,
Something beyond mere chance to sleep and feed.
Friendship they know, though Sentiment decays, —
Obedience, virtue lost from other days, —
Devotion, as of Paynim to his creed.

What knows the Scientist of dogs? A boy
Can tell you more of what his collie thinks
Romping the summer in companioned joy
Than all the adventurers in " missing links. "
Keep, friend, so lost in theologic fogs,
Your heaven that has no humor and no dogs!