Page 44 - Poetry-Animals

Mike

Sweet peace was ours, my Micky,
Until the day you came,
But neither home nor garden
Can ever seem the same!
O’er couch and chair and carpet
We trace your sportive feet;
The lawn with holes you garnish,
The flowers that bloom you eat.

Wrath fills your heart, my Micky,
And growlings swell your breast.
When in your path comes straying
Some uninvited guest;
But rolling, rolling over,
“Wot larks!” you seem to say,
As both of you together
Rush headlong down the way.

What are your thoughts, my Micky,
The joys that fill your mind,
When o’er the waves victorious
You sniff the salt sea-wind?
Or Tabby’s tail pursuing
Across the wall you fly,
Then pause to watch her slumber
With puzzled, doubtful eye?

Oh! bold and black-nosed Micky !
Life is not wholly free
At times from dews of trouble,
My doggie! e’en for thee.
Yet Love doth make thy sunlight,
And long may years renew
The heart-links that unite us,
My comrade tried and true!

— M.S. Haycraft (Cassell’s Family Magazine, 1894)

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