The House Dogs Grave (Haig, an English bulldog) Ive changed my ways a little; I cannot now Run with you in the evenings along the shore, Except in a kind of dream; and you, if you dream a moment, You see me there. So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door Where I used to scratch to go out or in, And youd soon open; leave on the kitchen floor The marks of my drinking-pan. I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do On the warm stone, Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the night through I lie alone. But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet Outside your window where firelight so often plays, And where you sit to read--and I fear often grieving for me-- Every night your lamplight lies on my place. You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard To think of you ever dying A little dog would get tired, living so long. I hope that when you are lying Under the ground like me your lives will appear As good and joyful as mine. No, dear, thats too much hope: you are not so well cared for As I have been. And never have known the passionate undivided Fidelities that I knew. Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided.... But to me you were true. You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend. I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures To the end and far past the end. If this is my end, I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours. --Robinson Jeffers, 1941
Posted on: Sat, 30 Nov 2013 02:39:11 +0000
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