REMARK'S TO MY GROWN-UP PUP

    By rules of fitness and of tense,
    By all old canine precedents,
        Oh Adult Dog, the time is up
        When I may fondly call you pup -
    The years have sped since first you stood,
    In straddle-legged puppyhood, -
        A watch-pup proud of your renown,
        Who barked so hard you tumbled down.
    In Age's gain and Youth's retreat
    You've found more team-work for your feet,
        You drool a soupcon less, and hark!
        There's fuller meaning to your bark.
    But answer fairly, whilom pup,
    Are these full proof of growing up?

    I heard an elephantine tread
    That jarred the rafters overhead:
        Who leaped in mad abandon there
        And tossed my slippers in the air?
    Who, sitting gravely on the rug,
    Espied a microscopic bug
        And stalked it, gaining bit by bit, -
        Then leapt in air and fell on it?
    Who gallops madly down the breeze
    Pursuing specks that no one sees,
        Then finds some ancient boot instead
        And worries it till it is dead?

    I have no adult friends who choose
    To gnaw the shoe-strings from my shoes, -
        Who eat up twine and paper scraps
        And bark while they are taking naps.
    Oh Dog, you offer every proof
    That stately age yet holds aloof.
        Grown up? There's meaning in the phrase,
        Of dignity as well as day.
    Oh why such size, beloved pup? -
    You've grown enough, but not grown up.

                                    Burges Johnson

      RHAPSODY ON A DOG'S INTELLIGENCE

      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.

                                      Burges Johnson


      Go To More Poems