Little Lost Pup

Arthur Guiterman





He was lost!- not a shade of doubt of that;

For he never barked at a slinking cat,

But stood in the square where the wind blew raw

With a drooping ear and a trembling paw

And a mournful look in his pleading eyes

And a plaintive sniff at the passer-by

That begged as plain as a tongue could sue,

"O Mister! please may I follow you?"

A lorn wee waif of a tawny brown

Adrift in the roar of a heedless town.

Oh, the saddest of sights in a world of sin

is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in!

Now he shares my board and he owns my bed,

And he fairly shouts when he hears my tread;

Then, if things go wrong, as they sometimes do,

And the world is cold and I'm feeling blue,

He asserts his right to assuage my woes

With a warm, red tongue and a nice, cold nose

And a silky head on my arm or knee

And a paw as soft as a paw can be.

When we rove the woods for a league about

He's as full of pranks as a school let out;

For he romps and frisks like a three months' colt,

And he runs me down like a thunderbolt.

Oh, the blithest of sights in the world so fair

Is a gay little pup with his tail in the air!