A POEM. 



69 



To a poor member of the canine tribe 1 

 That grateful race, whose only aim's to strive 

 Their pow'r, their strength, each faculty to lay 

 At feet of lordly man, his will t'obey ; 

 Which leave their kind, to follow in his wake, 

 Whate'er his calling or his state ; partake 

 Oft in his cares and pleasures ; in short, blend 

 The names of humble servant, faithful friend. 



Having on dogs enlarg'd enough, I'll mention 

 The costume worthy most of your attention : 

 Dress lightly under a September sun, 

 Or you may tire before the day is done ; 

 Brown Holland jackets, of an extra size, 

 Those who love comfort, always patronize ; 

 But when this month is getting in the wane, 

 They're better made of worsted stuff, or jean ; 

 And leave the heavy velveteen till when 

 The bleak wind sweeps along the hollow glen, 

 It then will needed be, the cold to stem. 



E 



