Your form now is bent And your hair is tinged with grey, And there's furrows on your once smooth brow,But your eyes still are bright And your voice still is sweet As when you pledged to me that solemn vow.
Old mem'ries stir our hearts, Old songs recall the scenes That we both would fain forget,But when we think of the present And the ones that we have chosen. We find there is nothing to regret.
DUKIE BOY.
(Died Aug. 11, 1889.)He was only a horse! Just a horse, you know,But always faithful And ready to goThrough all weathers, Cold or warm.He carried his master And through many a storm.
Only a horse! It seems so queerPerhaps to you That I shed a tear;But I do, I cannot help it,We miss him so!
Only a horse! Good faithful friend,No one over Your grave will bend:Quietly you rest In the wood, alone,Naught marks the spot. Not even a stone.
But we'll not forget you. Good, tried Duke,What care I, if They do rebuke,And say why cry For a horse?Does nobody care?
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