Oh little friend of half my days,
My little friend, who followed me
Along those crooked sullen ways
That only you had eyes to see.
You felt the same. You understood
You too, defensive and morose,
Encloaked your secret puppyhood—
Your secret heart—and hid them close.
For I alone have seen you serve,
Disciple of those early springs,
With ears awry and tail a-curve
You lost yourself in puppy things.
And you saw me. You bore in mind
The clean and sunny things I felt
When, throwing hate along the wind,
I flashed the lantern at my belt.
The moment passed, and we returned
To barren words and old cold truth,
Yet in our hearts our lanterns burned,
We two had seen each other’s youth.
When filthy pain did wrap me round
Your upright ears I always saw,
And on my outflung hand I found
The blessing of your horny paw;
And yet—oh impotence of men—
My paw, more soft but not more wise,
Old friend, was lacking to you when
You looked your crisis in the eyes....
You shared my youth, oh faithful friend,
You let me share your puppyhood;
So, if I failed you in the end,
My friend, my friend, you understood.