On a Small Dog,
thrust out in a Tokyo Street soon after
his birth, and rescued in vain
Animula vagula blandula, foundling dear,So deep a hold have you already wonOn our tired hearts? so great a joy have you to give?So sharp a fear?Can your tininess unseal so hot a tearAnd prayer, that you should live?Like these cherry-flowers hereWhose life thin-spunSeems by its own ghost haunted—but no more words!Save, all heaven's luck befriend you,Blind eyes and feeling hands,That take us for all-surety and all-love,And so to sleep.
31
