Little Dog

I have a little dog, and my dog is very small;     He licked me in the face, and he answered to my call;                                           Of all the treasures that were mine, I loved him most of all.                                    
His nose as fresh as morning dew and blacker then the night;                                     I thought it could even sniff the shadows and the light;                                         And his tail he held bravely, like a banner in a fight.
His body covered thick with hair was very good to smell;                                       His little stomach underneath was pink as any shell;                                           And I loved him and honoured him, more then words can tell.
We ran out in the morning, both of us, to play,   Up and down across the fields for all the sunny day;                                                           But he ran so swiftly he ran right away.
I looked for him, I called for him, my eyes darted fast,                                     The dandelions could not speak, though they had seen him pass,                                 And nowhere was his waving tail among the waving grass.
I called him in a thousand ways and yet he did not come;                                     The pathways and hedges were horrible and dumb. I prayed to God who never herd. My desperate soul grew numb.
The sun sank low. I ran, I prayed, ‘if God has not the power to find him, let me die. I cannot bear another hour.’                             When suddenly I came across a great yellow flower.
And among all its petals, was such heavens grace.                                         In that golden hour, in that golden place       All among it’s petals, was his hairy face!