Page 27 - Poetry-Animals

Ah, my lady, fair and sweet,
Will you tell me when we meet
If it’s true,
That your heart has grown so small,
There is no room there at all
For me too?

Did she answer no or yes ?
She but gave him a caress,
Quite a hug,
And I staid to see him courted,
For he is her fine, imported,
English pug.

— Bessie Chandler (Century Magazine, 1885)

Unsatisfied Yearning

Down in the silent hallway
Scampers the dog about,
And whines, and barks, and scratches,
In order to get out.
Once in the glittering starlight,
He straightway doth begin
To set up a doleful howling
In order to get in.

—R.K. Munkittrick

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