A Guardian at the Gate

The dog beside the threshold lies, Mocking sleep with half-shut eyes— With head crouched down upon his feet, Till strangers pass his sunny seat— Then quick he pricks his ears to hark And bustles up to growl and bark; While boys in fear stop short their song, And sneak in startled speed along; And beggar, creeping like a snail, To make his hungry hopes prevail O'er the warm heart of charity, Leaves his lame halt and hastens by.