POETRY.
THE CARRIER DOG OF BERLIN.
HE goes between the shafts all day, Dear, patient, burden-bearing fellow ; In every street I pass him—grey, Or brown, or black, or ugly yellow.
He drags along the flinty road A little cart, which, low and narrow, Seems yet a disproportioned load; Or, happy chance, the slighter barrow.
Beside him, sharer in the strain, A fellow-toiler goes, the master: He lends a hand, and shouts amain, To check his beast, or urge him faster.
They halt where business gives them cause: Set free a moment from the traces He lies with nose between his paws, Or seeks a friend in passing faces.
About him sport, with leisured air, 'King Charles' and Teckel,' hound and terrier ; He eyes them with a patient stare ; More sober he, as they the merrier.
Some wistful feelings may arise At so much play while he is working, Yet in his thoughtful yellow eyes No shade of discontent is lurking.
But still between the shafts he goes, In quietness his mind possessing. He lives his life, and, living, knows That comfort lies in acquiescing.
MANY ARMSTRONG.
Previous page
