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A
man's dog stands by him in prospertiy and in poverty,
in
health and in sickness.
He
will sleep on the cold grounds,
where
the wintry winds blow and the snow drives fiercely,
if
only he may be near his master's side.
He
will kiss the had that has no food to offer.
He
will lick the wounds and sores that come,
in
encounters with the roughness of the world,
He
guards the sleep of his pauper master as if he were a prince.
When
all other friends desert,
her
remains.
When
riches take wings,
and
reputation falls to pieces,
he
is as constant in love,
as
the sun, in its journey through the heavens.
If
fortune drives the master forth,
and
outcast in the world, friendless and homeless,
the
faithful dog asks no higher privilege that that of accompanying him,
to
guard him against danger,
to
fight his enemies.
And
when the last scene of all comes,
and
death takes his master in its embrace and his body is laid away in the
cold ground,
no
matter if all other friends pursue their way,
there
by the grave side will the noble dog be found,
his
head between his paws,
his
eyes sad,
but
open in alert watchfulness,
faithful
and true even in death.
George
Graham Vest c.1855
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