35
EPITAPH ON A FAVORITE DOG.
Poor little dog! thy span of life was short,
Spent half in misery, and half in sport.
Thy bark so joyous, and thy bound so light,
Thy speed so swift, and thy dark eyes so bright,
Thy puppy age so fondled and caressed,
Thy lot appeared peculiarly blessed.
Poor Tip! disease attacked thy little frame,
Anguish and pain scarce could thy spirits tame;
But, wandering from thy home in evil hour,
Thou wert exposed to persecution's power,
Hunger and cold and cruelty combined.
Home thou at length were brought, exhausted, blind.
Spent half in misery, and half in sport.
Thy bark so joyous, and thy bound so light,
Thy speed so swift, and thy dark eyes so bright,
Thy puppy age so fondled and caressed,
Thy lot appeared peculiarly blessed.
Poor Tip! disease attacked thy little frame,
Anguish and pain scarce could thy spirits tame;
But, wandering from thy home in evil hour,
Thou wert exposed to persecution's power,
Hunger and cold and cruelty combined.
Home thou at length were brought, exhausted, blind.
