Dog Poems

The Power of the Dog

by Rudyard Kipling

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There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.

Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.

When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it's your own affair—
But . . . you've given your heart to a dog to tear.

When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!)
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.

We've sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept'em, the more do we grieve;
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Fidelity

by William Wordsworth

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A barking sound the Shepherd hears,
A cry as of a dog or fox;
He halts—and searches with his eyes
Among the scattered rocks:
And now at distance can discern
A stirring in a brake of fern;
And instantly a dog is seen,
Glancing through that covert green.

The Dog is not of mountain breed;
Its motions, too, are wild and shy;
With something, as the Shepherd thinks,
Unusual in its cry:
Nor is there any one in sight
All round, in hollow or on height;
Nor shout, nor whistle strikes his ear;
What is the creature doing here?

It was a cove, a huge recess,
That keeps, till June, December's snow;
A lofty precipice in front,
A silent tarn below!
Far in the bosom of Helvellyn,
Remote from public road or dwelling,
Pathway, or cultivated land;
From trace of human foot or hand.

There sometimes doth a leaping fish
Send through the tarn a lonely cheer;
The crags repeat the raven's croak,
In symphony austere;
Thither the rainbow comes—the cloud—
And mists that spread the flying shroud;
And sunbeams; and the sounding blast,
That, if it could, would hurry past;
But that enormous barrier holds it fast.

Not free from boding thoughts, a while
The Shepherd stood; then makes his way
O'er rocks and stones, following the Dog
As quickly as he may;
Nor far had gone before he found
A human skeleton on the ground;
The appalled Discoverer with a sigh
Looks round, to learn the history.

From those abrupt and perilous rocks
The Man had fallen, that place of fear!
At length upon the Shepherd's mind
It breaks, and all is clear:
He instantly recalled the name,
And who he was, and whence he came;
Remembered, too, the very day
On which the Traveller passed this way.

But hear a wonder, for whose sake
This lamentable tale I tell!
A lasting monument of words
This wonder merits well.
The Dog, which still was hovering nigh,
Repeating the same timid cry,
This Dog, had been through three months' space
A dweller in that savage place.

Yes, proof was plain that, since the day
When this ill-fated Traveller died,
The Dog had watched about the spot,
Or by his master's side:
How nourished here through such long time
He knows, who gave that love sublime;
And gave that strength of feeling, great
Above all human estimate!

The Faithful Dog

by Anonymous

With eye upraised his master's look to scan,
The joy, the solace, and the aid of man;
The rich man's guardian and the poor man's friend,
The only creature faithful to the end.

Dogging His Steps

by Amos Russel Wells

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"To dog his steps"—there's libel in the phrase,
A slander on the faithful doggish ways.
By it men mean to follow like a thief,
To tremble at the crackling of a leaf,
To crawl and sneak to spy and wait and gloat.
And hide a dagger ready for a throat.

No, no! To "dog his steps" is to pursue
With endless loyalty and purpose true;
To leap with love and eagerness and joy,
Be ready for the heartiest employ;
To worship him as if he were a god,
And follow every step that he has trod;
To hang upon his whistle or his word;
To skim along as happy as a bird;
With shining eyes and with a heart of cheer
To he a comrade and a friend sincere;
That never mind what stupid men may say—
That is to "dog his steps" the doggish way!

Rhapsody on a Dog's Intelligence

by Burges Johnson

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Dear dog that seems to stand and gravely brood
Upon the broad veranda of our home,
With soulful eyes that gaze into the gloam,—
With speaking tail that registers thy mood,—
Men say thou hast no ratiocination —
Methinks there is a clever imitation.

Men say again thy kindred have no souls,
And sin is but an attribute of men;
Say, is it chance alone that bids thee,then,
Choose only garden spots for digging holes?
Why dost thou filch some fragment of the cooking
At times when no one seemeth to be looking?

Was there an elder Adam of thy race,
And brindled Eve, the mother of thy house,
Who shared some purloined chicken with her spouse,
Thus causing all thy tribe to fall from grace?
If fleas dwelt in the garden of that Adam,
Perhaps thy sinless parents never had 'em.

This morn thou cam'st a-slinking through the door,
Avoiding eyes and some dark corner sought,
And though no accusation filled our thought,
Thy tail, apologetic, thumped the floor.
Who claims thou hast no conscience, argues vainly,
For I have seen its symptoms very plainly.

What leads thee to forsake thy board and bed
On days that are devoted to thy bath?
For if it is not reason, yet it hath
Appearance of desire to plan ahead!
The sage who claims thy brain and soul be wizen
Would do quite well to swap thy head for his'n.

"A Dog's Life"

by Anonymous

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Yours a dog's life, do you moan?
Courage, brother! cease to groan.
Many men, as on they jog,
Live much worse than any dog.

Yours a dog's life? Then, my boy,
It's a life crammed full of joy!—
Merry breezes, meadows fair,
Birds and brooks and sunny air.

Dogs? why, dogs are never sad!
See them capering like mad!
See them frisk their jolly way
Through the livelong laughing day!

Dog's life? Then you'll never rust.
Dog's life? Then you'll hope and trust;
Then you'll say in jaunty glee,
"Bones have been, and bones will be."

Cheery, active, trusting, true,—
There's a canine goal for you!
Live a dog's life, if you can:
You will be the better man!

Pals

by John E.Donovan

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You see us every morning,
A common pair are we,
Each on a leash's ending —
My little dog and me.
We amble village byways
In bright or dismal weather;
You may not think there's much in that,
But we have fun together.

No many-stranded cable
Could bear the jokes that pass
Between my little comrade
And me — my! how we sass!
But how we give assurance
That we don't really mean it!
(A dog-and-man companionship
Is balm to him who's seen it.)

He greets his dog friends gayly,
While I to neighbors speak;
He sometimes finds a treasure —
A bone that's lost its meat!
He talks with dogs or children,
While I swap views with master . . .
I had this thought the other day,
While visiting with Pastor.

"When dog and I have rambled on
Beyond this mundane scope,
And seen the Golden Gateway,
(From the inside, we hope!)
We won't pause on the highway
Made smooth for feet more sainted,
But wander down some quiet land,
And start to get acquainted.

We hope there'll be a hydrant,
A friendly tree or two,
Some drying leaves to shuffle,
A field to wander through.
We'll glory in our freedom,
And need no leash of leather;
It really will be Heaven, Lord,
As long as we're together."

Welcome Home

by Louella C.Poole

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I saw him coming up the street,
So spent and weary that his feet
Seemed like two heavy weights of lead;
Ah, he had known so hard a day,
Small wonder that he looked that way,
And slouched along with drooping head!

Then, suddenly, with frantic shout,
A little yellow dog rushed out
A yard, to greet the tired man;
He licked his hands, he kissed his face,
Then dashed ahead in eager race,
Then back again he gaily ran!

The tired worker laughed aloud,
Straightened his shoulders; through the crowd
Pressed on; his feet seemed to take wings
So fast he walked as he went up
The street toward home the yellow pup
All joyous leaps and caperings.

O little dog so fond and true,
Much good in life you surely do
When you can make a man so spent
Forget fatigue — make him so glad
He acts like any madcap lad,
And laughs aloud with merriment!

Only A Dog

by Marty Hale

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"He left no relatives," they said,
"He didn't have a friend
Who knew about his sorry plight —
Was with him at the end!" . . .
And so they raked the stove fires out,
And closed the old shack door,
For grouchy, crusty old Tom Dare
Would open it no more.

Then each went to his own home-fires,
Forgot the lonely shack,
And not a soul was near to see
An old form stumble back
And crouch, sad-eyed, beside the door,
His bony length stretched flat —
He waited for his master's voice,
His friendly little pat.

Days had been lean for Old Tom Dare,
Not food enough for two —
But Old Tom whispered to his dog,
"I'll share along with you,
Since Jennie went away from us
There's been no one to care —
No one but you to give a thought
For lonely old Tom Dare."

And so the two of them had shared,
If it be feast, or fast,
That morning Rover had a bone —
It was their very last,
And there was nothing left for Tom —
It didn't matter so,
Because he lay upon his bed,
And knew that he must Go.

The careless villagers passed by,
As they were pleasure-bound,
But none of them took time to see
The faithful, hungry hound.
Too tired and true to leave his post,
He stayed there to the End . . .
And folks had said of Old Tom Dare,
"He didn't have a friend!"

The days have passed, but no one stops
Of all that come and go,
Old Rover lies beside the door,
Half-hidden in the snow . . .
I know that Old Tom had a friend,
A loyal friend, because
Today I found Old Rover dead,
The bone between his paws.

Answer to a Dog's Invitation

by Marty Hale

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Faithfullest of a faithful race,
Plainly I read it in thy face
Thou wishest me to mount the stairs
And leave behind me all my cares.
No; I shall never see again
Her who now sails across the main;
Nor wilt thou ever, as before,
Rear two white feet against her door.
Therefor do thou nor whine nor roam,
But rest thee and curl round at home.

Child Saved by Dog

by James McIntyre

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Johnston he is an engineer,
He always looks if track is clear,
For he hath a keen eagle eye,
Danger afar he doth espy.

And he hath too a warm true heart,
Of others woes he sharas a part;
One day he gazed far down the line,
And a large dog he could define.

So eager busy on the track,
In mouth it seemed to lift a pack,
But it oftentimes did fail
For to raise it o er the rail.

The engineer put on his steam
And he loud made his whistle scream,
So that the dog would take alarm
And thus preserve his life from harm.

This noble dog, it feared not danger,
Fear to him it was a stranger,
His mistress child he wished to save,
And all the danger he would brave.

His last great effort did prevail,
He raised it safe beyond the rail,
Into a snug and hollow spot,
A place seein'd formed for a child's cot.

This dog of noble mastiff breed,
For his own safety took no heed,
But at approaching train did bark,
To make them to his troubles hark.

The engineer did sad bewail,
To see the dog still on the rail,
A moment more the beast is slain,
Cut in two by the cruel train.

The engineer now shuts off steam
For to investigate the theme,
That caused the dog to die at post,
Finds to save child its life it lost.

Faithful in the cause of duty,
Saving life of little beauty,
A little darling three year old,
More precious than her weight in gold.

On track she wandered for4to play,
But soon she in quiet slumber lay,
And all the efforts of old Towser,
Were not able to arouse her.

The mother now in agony wild,
Rushed down to train to find her child,
There she found it sweetly sleeping,
While some for faithful dog were weeping.

And a brave man was engineer,
For he himself knew not of fear,
But his heart was failed with pain,
Because the noble dog was slain.

A Boy and His Dog

by Edgar A. Guest

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A boy and his dog make a glorious pair:
No better friendship is found anywhere,
For they talk and they walk and they run and they play,
And they have their deep secrets for many a day;
And that boy has a comrade who thinks and who feels,
Who walks down the road with a dog at his heels.

He may go where he will and his dog will be there,
May revel in mud and his dog will not care;
Faithful he'll stay for the slightest command
And bark with delight at the touch of his hand;
Oh, he owns a treasure which nobody steals,
Who walks down the road with a dog at his heels.

No other can lure him away from his side;
He's proof against riches and station and pride;
Fine dress does not charm him, and flattery's breath
Is lost on the dog, for he's faithful to death;
He sees the great soul which the body conceals—
Oh, it's great to be young with a dog at your heels!

The Little Dog's Day

by Rupert Brooke

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All in the town were still asleep,
When the sun came up with a shout and a leap.
In the lonely streets unseen by man,
A little dog danced. And the day began.

All his life he'd been good, as far as he could,
And the poor little beast had done all that he should.
But this morning he swore, by Odin and Thor
And the Canine Valhalla—he'd stand it no more!

So his prayer he got granted—to do just what he wanted,
Prevented by none, for the space of one day.
"Jam incipiebo, sedere facebo,"
In dog-Latin he quoth, "Euge! sophos! hurray!"

He fought with the he-dogs, and winked at the she-dogs,
A thing that had never been heard of before.
"For the stigma of gluttony, I care not a button!" he
Cried, and ate all he could swallow—and more.

He took sinewy lumps from the shins of old frumps,
And mangled the errand-boys—when he could get 'em.
He shammed furious rabies, and bit all the babies,
And followed the cats up the trees, and then ate 'em!"

They thought 'twas the devil was holding a revel,
And sent for the parson to drive him away;
For the town never knew such a hullabaloo
As that little dog raised—till the end of that day.

When the blood-red sun had gone burning down,
And the lights were lit in the little town,
Outside, in the gloom of the twilight grey,
The little dog died when he'd had his day.

An Insectarian

by John B. Tabb

"I cannot wash my dog," she said,
"Nor touch him with a comb,
For fear the Fleas upon him bred
May find no other home."

A Puppy's Problem

by Emilie Poulsson

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When Midget was a puppy
And to the farm was brought,
She found that there were many things
A puppy must be taught.

Her mother oft had told her
The first thing to be known
Was how to gnaw and bite, and thus
Enjoy a toothsome bone.

So Midget practiced biting
On everything around,
But that was not approved at all,
To her surprise, she found.

The farmer spoke severely,
Till Midget shook with fright;
The children shouted "No, no, no!
Bad Midget! Mustn't bite!"

'Twas just the same with barking;
At first they all said "Hark!"
Whenever Midget tried her voice;
"Good puppy! That's it! Bark!"

But then, as soon as Midget
Could sound a sharp "Bow-wow!"
Alas! the talk was changed to "Hush!
Such noise we can't allow!"

Now wasn't that a puzzle?
It seemed a problem dark
That it was right and wrong to bite
And right and wrong to bark.

A puppy's hardest lesson
Is when to bark and bite;
But Midget learned it, and became
A comfort and delight.

My Dog's Tail

by Arthur Wallace Peach

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What put the wiggle in a little dog's tail
I'd like to know!
That gay little wiggle, that glad little waggle —
How did it grow?

It starts in his mind and it runs out behind
To the tip of his tail, and then
That glad little waggle, that gay little wiggle
Begins all over again.

The day may be sunny or dark with rain,
The wiggle is there just the same;
It needs just a whistle to set it a-wiggle
Or the sound of his favorite name.

No doubt I shall never, in any way ever
Find out how that wiggle got there,
But I'm very sure, while tails shall endure,
That tail will wig-wag in the air!

Wag

by William Henry Venable

He was only a dog, and a mongrel at that,
And worthless and troublesome, lazy and fat,—
Was Wag, who died yesterday night;
Yet now that his barking forever is o'er,
And his caudal appendage can waggle no more,
His elegy I will indite.

'Twas seldom authority mastered his will;
He always was noisy when bid to be still;
He slumbered while danger was near;
He ran after chickens against all command;
When ordered to "sick" he would heedlessly stand;
His principal passion was fear.

From morning till night he would dig in the ground
To get at a rabbit, but, when it was found,
In terror he took to his heels;
But there was one duty he never did shun,
From that naught could drive him, to that he would run:
Wag never neglected his meals.

The tax that I paid the police on his poll,
A dollar a year, I begrudged in my soul,
For Wag I thought dear at a cent;
And once, in my hardness, I gloomily said,
"I wish that the no-account puppy were dead!"
But now he is dead, I repent.

Wag came from Kentucky, a waif, bundled up
And packed in a basket, a charity pup,—
In pity we warmed him and fed;
The only return that his nature could give
For preserving his life, was serenely to live,
Content with his board and his bed.

He was kind to the dogs upon Tusculum Hill;
He followed them all with fraternal good will,
From coach dog to commonest cur;
He was grateful to people who treated him right,
And for his young mistress he even would fight,
But not lose his dinner for her.

I miss his black body curled up and asleep,
I miss his contortions, his bark, and his leap,
And the sound of his gnawing at bones;
The very same night that the Pope died at Rome,
Poor Wag, all alone, in the wash-house at home,
Yielded up his last shivering moans.

And when to the children, next morning, I said,
As they sat at the table, "Yes, Wag—he is dead,"
There was not a dry eye in the room;
And Auntie began, with remorse, to recall
How lately she'd driven deceased from the hall,
With scoldings and blows of a broom.

Now Wag is asleep near an apple-tree old,
And a dog-rose shall blossom above his dear mold,
And there shall a tablet be set;
For though but a dog, and a mongrel at that,
And worthless, and idle, and lazy, and fat,—
Poor Wag was our dog, and a pet.

To Flush, My Dog

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

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Loving friend, the gift of one,
Who, her own true faith, hath run,
Through thy lower nature;
Be my benediction said
With my hand upon thy head,
Gentle fellow-creature!

Like a lady's ringlets brown,
Flow thy silken ears adown
Either side demurely,
Of thy silver-suited breast
Shining out from all the rest
Of thy body purely.

Darkly brown thy body is,
Till the sunshine, striking this,
Alchemize its dulness, —
When the sleek curls manifold
Flash all over into gold,
With a burnished fulness.

Underneath my stroking hand,
Startled eyes of hazel bland
Kindling, growing larger, —
Up thou leapest with a spring,
Full of prank and curvetting,
Leaping like a charger.

Leap! thy broad tail waves a light;
Leap! thy slender feet are bright,
Canopied in fringes.
Leap — those tasselled ears of thine
Flicker strangely, fair and fine,
Down their golden inches

Yet, my pretty sportive friend,
Little is 't to such an end
That I praise thy rareness!
Other dogs may be thy peers
Haply in these drooping ears,
And this glossy fairness.

But of thee it shall be said,
This dog watched beside a bed
Day and night unweary, —
Watched within a curtained room,
Where no sunbeam brake the gloom
Round the sick and dreary.

Roses, gathered for a vase,
In that chamber died apace,
Beam and breeze resigning —
This dog only, waited on,
Knowing that when light is gone,
Love remains for shining.

Other dogs in thymy dew
Tracked the hares and followed through
Sunny moor or meadow —
This dog only, crept and crept
Next a languid cheek that slept,
Sharing in the shadow.

Other dogs of loyal cheer
Bounded at the whistle clear,
Up the woodside hieing —
This dog only, watched in reach
Of a faintly uttered speech,
Or a louder sighing.

And if one or two quick tears
Dropped upon his glossy ears,
Or a sigh came double, —
Up he sprang in eager haste,
Fawning, fondling, breathing fast,
In a tender trouble.

And this dog was satisfied,
If a pale thin hand would glide,
Down his dewlaps sloping, —
Which he pushed his nose within,
After, — platforming his chin
On the palm left open.

This dog, if a friendly voice
Call him now to blyther choice
Than such chamber-keeping,
Come out! 'praying from the door, —
Presseth backward as before,
Up against me leaping.

Therefore to this dog will I,
Tenderly not scornfully,
Render praise and favour!
With my hand upon his head,
Is my benediction said
Therefore, and for ever.

And because he loves me so,
Better than his kind will do
Often, man or woman,
Give I back more love again
Than dogs often take of men, —
Leaning from my Human.

Blessings on thee, dog of mine,
Pretty collars make thee fine,
Sugared milk make fat thee!
Pleasures wag on in thy tail —
Hands of gentle motion fail
Nevermore, to pat thee!

Downy pillow take thy head,
Silken coverlid bestead,
Sunshine help thy sleeping!
No fly 's buzzing wake thee up —
No man break thy purple cup,
Set for drinking deep in.

Whiskered cats arointed flee —
Sturdy stoppers keep from thee
Cologne distillations;
Nuts lie in thy path for stones,
And thy feast-day macaroons
Turn to daily rations!

Mock I thee, in wishing weal? —
Tears are in my eyes to feel
Thou art made so straightly,
Blessing needs must straighten too, —
Little canst thou joy or do,
Thou who lovest greatly.

Yet be blessed to the height
Of all good and all delight
Pervious to thy nature, —
Only loved beyond that line,
With a love that answers thine,
Loving fellow-creature!

A Belated Memorial

by Anonymous

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Forty years of varied weather
(How the impish decades fly!)
Since we lived our lives together,
My dog and I.

Forty years of thought and action.
Failure, struggle, pain, success,
Play and passion, friendship, faction,
Curse me, and bless.

Back through all the mess of living,—
Time's commingled sun and fog,—
Merry, faithful, fond, forgiving,
I see my dog.

He was one who knew no meanness,
Nor the shadow of a lie;
Lived we two in spirit-cleanness,
My dog and I.

He was one who, always sunny,
Never knew an anxious thought;
Counted glory, counted money,
As less than nought.

He was one who knew no other
Praise or blame than I might bring;
I was father, I was brother,
His judge and king!

How we frolicked, single-hearted,
Over meadows, through thr wood!
How my frets and fears departed,
And all was good!

Not a word, yet that dear creature,
By his bearing and his looks,
Said in each expressive feature
Far more than books.

Forty years of varied going.
Highway, byway, steady jog;
Few men better worth the knowing
Thau that old dog.

Few have been so loyal to me,
Few have I so truly served,
Few to hearts unfailing drew me,
And never swerved.

This memorial belated,
Let it stand for men to see,
Till in heaven, recreated,
He bounds to me.

With Regard to Dogs

by Nancy Byrd Turner

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Only the human dead may lie
In God's good acre wide and fair;
Those of an humbler kind who die
May not have shelter there: —

Not Dan, who spent his lifetime in
Such deep devotion, such warm trust
Toward man, — 'twould seem there might have been
Some corner for Dan's dust;

Not Chum, a little blind boy's guide,
Not Mike, who raced on eager feet
When school was out, to walk beside
The youngest on his street;

No place for Jack who, neighbor-wise,
Shared with a hungry cur his bone,
Nor Pete, whose heart was in his eyes
To hear his master's tone;

Nor Watch, who longed to range around
With brother dogs, but wanted most
To keep good guard, — Watch, always found
Faithfully at his post;

No place for Sam, too small to teach
Great lessons to, whose only art
Was loving well one small lad, which
He did, with all his heart;

No room for Sandy down the road,
Who never, through the whole long span
Of his good life transgressed the code
Of courteous gentleman. . . .

Nor Max, who leapt a life to save
And lost his own, with peril near:
Look somewherre else for Max's grave,
The human dead lie here.

* * * *
Sleep well, you dead who never knew
Humanity. The Love on high
Who marks the faithful and the true
Remembers where you lie!

To a Dog

by John Jay Chapman

Past happiness dissolves. It fades away,
Ghost-like, in that dim attic of the mind
To which the dreams of childhood are consigned.
Here, withered garlands hang in slow decay,
And trophies glimmer in the dying ray
Of stars that once with heavenly glory shined.
But you, old friend, are you still left behind
To tell the nearness of life's yesterday?
Ah, boon companion of my vanished boy,
For you he lives; in every sylvan walk
He waits; and you expect him everywhere.
How would you stir, what cries, what bounds of joy,
If but his voice were heard in casual talk,
If but his footstep sounded on the stair!

Epitaph on a Lap-dog

by Robert Burns

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In wood and wild, ye warbling throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now, half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.

Ye jarring, screeching things around,
Scream your discordant joys;
Now, half your din of tuneless sound
With Echo silent lies.

Lost Dog

by Margaret E. Sangster

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I saw a little dog today,
And oh, that dog was lost;
He risked his anguished puppy life
With every street he crossed.
He shrank away from outstretched hands,
He winced at every hail —
Against the city's bigness he
Looked very small and frail.

Distrust lay in his tortured eyes,
His body shook with fright;
(I wondered when he'd eaten last —
And where he'd slept at night!)
I whistled, and I followed him,
And hoped that he might guess
That all my soul reached out to him,
And offered friendliness!

So many times I have been lost,
And lonely and afraid!
I followed through the crowded streets,
I followed — and I prayed.
And then the God of little things,
Who knows when sparrows fall,
Put trust into the puppy's heart
And made him heed my call. . . .

I've Got a Dog

by Ethel M. Kelley

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Full Text

I've got a dog. The other boys
Have quantities of tools and toys,
And heaps of things that I ain't seen
(Ain't saw, I mean).
They've oars and clubs and golfin' sticks; —
I know a feller that has six,
And gee! you ought to see him drive!
But I've
Got a dog!

I've got a dog. His name is Pete.
The other children on our street
Have lots of things that I ain't got
(I mean, have not).
I know a boy that's got a gun —
I don't see why they have such fun
Playing with things that ain't alive;
But I've
Got a dog!

I've got a dog, and so, you see,
The boys all want to play with me;
They think he's such a cunnin' brute
(I mean, so cute).
That's why they leave their toys and games,
And run to us, and shout our names,
Whenever me and Pete arrive;
For I've
Got a dog!

The Dainty Dog

by Amos Russel Wells

A dainty dog had chanced to note
The breakfast of a greedy goat,—
Half-rotten grass, a shocking pile.
"Fie!" said the dog; "what wretched style!
Good taste demands, you clownish beast,
A dish to eat from, at the least.
And as for food, that garbage foul
Would even make a camel scowl,
Would make a very buzzard groan,
Would —" Here the goat laid bare a hone,
Which when our dainty dog had spied,
"Your pardon, friend!" the critic cried;
"I'm quite near-sighted, neighbor mine.
I see your meal is fair and fine.
Invite me, pray, with you to dine!"

The Partners

by Anonymous

Said the Puppy to the Elephant: "Let's form a partnership,
And let us tour the country in a profitable trip.
For you and I together could prodigies perform,
And gather crowds of people and take them quite by storm,
For you could lift a mighty weight, and I could push below.
While all the crowd would hold their breath, and then they'd all say "Oh!"
And then they all would wave their flags and clap their hands and laugh,
Then you and I'd divide the cash, and I would give you half.
Our fortunes would he surely made, an overflowing cup.
If you would only lift the weights, while I would push them up."

Why the Dog's Nose Is Always Cold

by Anonymous

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Full Text

What makes the dog's nose always cold?
I'll try to tell you, Curls of Gold,
If you will good and quiet be,
And come and stand by mamma's knee.
Well, years and years and years ago—
How many I don't really know—
There came a rain on sea and shore,
Its like was never seen before
Or since. It fell unceasing down,
Till all the world began to drown;
But just before it began to pour,
An old, old man—his name was Noah—
Built him an Ark, that he might save
His family from a wat'ry grave;
And in it also he designed
To shelter two of every kind
Of beast. Well, dear, when it was done,
And heavy clouds obscured the sun,
The Noah folks to it quickly ran,
And then the animals began
To gravely march along in pairs;
The leopards, tigers, wolves and bears,
The deer, the hippopotamuses,
The rabbits, squirrels, elks, walruses,
The camels, goats, cats and donkeys,
The tall giraffes, the beavers, monkeys,
The rats, the big rhinoceroses,
The dromedaries and the horses,
The sheep, and mice and kangaroos,
Hyenas, elephants, koodoos,
And hundreds more—'twould take all day,
My dear, so many names to say—
And at the very, very end
Of the procession, by his friend
And master, faithful dog was seen;
The livelong time he'd helping been,
To drive the crowd of creatures in;
And now, with loud, exultant bark,
He gaily sprang abroad the Ark.
Alas! so crowded was the space
He could not in it find a place;
So, patiently, he turned about,
Stood half way in, half way out,
And those extremely heavy showers
Descended through nine hundred hours
And more; and, darling, at the close,
'Most frozen was his honest nose;
And never could it lose again
The dampness of that dreadful rain.
And that is what, my Curls of Gold,
Made all the doggies' noses cold.

Bingo Was His Name-o

by Anonymous

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Full Text

There was a man who had a dog,
And Bingo was his name-o.
B-I-N-G-O
B-I-N-G-O
B-I-N-G-O
And Bingo was his name-o.

There was a man who had a dog,
And Bingo was his name-o.
(clap)-I-N-G-O
(clap)-I-N-G-O
(clap)-I-N-G-O
And Bingo was his name-o.

There was a man who had a dog,
And Bingo was his name-o.
(clap)-(clap)-N-G-O
(clap)-(clap)-N-G-O
(clap)-(clap)-N-G-O
And Bingo was his name-o.

There was a man who had a dog,
And Bingo was his name-o.
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-G-O
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-G-O
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-G-O
And Bingo was his name-o.

There was a man who had a dog,
And Bingo was his name-o.
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-O
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-O
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-O
And Bingo was his name-o.

There was a man who had a dog,
And Bingo was his name-o.
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)
(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)-(clap)
And Bingo was his name-o.

Table of Contents

Dog Qualities

Funny Characteristics and Observations About Dogs

Tributes to Beloved, Deceased Canine Companions

Other Dog Poems

Dog Qualities

The Power of the Dog

Fidelity

The Faithful Dog

Dogging His Steps

Rhapsody on a Dog's Intelligence

"A Dog's Life"

Pals

Welcome Home

Only A Dog

Answer to a Dog's Invitation

Child Saved by Dog

A Boy and His Dog

Funny Characteristics and Observations About Dogs

The Little Dog's Day

An Insectarian

A Puppy's Problem

My Dog's Tail

Tributes to Beloved, Deceased Canine Companions

Wag

To Flush, My Dog

A Belated Memorial

With Regard to Dogs

To a Dog

Epitaph on a Lap-dog

Other Dog Poems

Lost Dog

I've Got a Dog

The Dainty Dog

The Partners

Why the Dog's Nose Is Always Cold

Bingo Was His Name-o

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Table of Contents

Dog Qualities

Funny Characteristics and Observations About Dogs

Tributes to Beloved, Deceased Canine Companions

Other Dog Poems

Dog Qualities

Funny Characteristics and Observations About Dogs

Tributes to Beloved, Deceased Canine Companions

Other Dog Poems

Related Poems

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