THE EMPTY KENNEL. 



ON the kennel floor the chain lies 

 Where it lay a year ago 

 Rusty, knotted, wound in cobweb, 

 Where cold spiders hide below. 

 Creaking on its unused hinges 



Swings the loose door to and fro, 

 And the kennel straw is mildewed 

 Dampened by the sifting snow. 



Now there is no dog to care for, 



Silence only when I call, 

 But I must call : Grouse ! My beauty ! 



Hark ! A moan behind the wall. 

 Listen ! was that not his voice then ? 



Moans the wind there that is all. 

 Sighs the wind about the kennel 



While the rustling dead leaves fall. 



When the autumn leaves were falling, 



Just one year ago to-day, 

 Grouse, the noblest of the setters, 



Listened in the morning's gray 



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