THE SHEPHERD AND HIS DOG.

My dog and I are both grown old; On these wild downs we watch all day; He looks in my face when the wind blows cold, And thus methinks I hear him say:

The gray stone circlet is below, The village smoke is at our feet; We nothing hear but the sailing crow, And wandering flocks that roam and bleat.

Far off, the early horseman hies, In shower or sunshine rushing on; Yonder the dusty whirlwind flies; The distant coach is seen and gone.

Though solitude around is spread, Master, alone thou shalt not be; And when the turf is on thy head, I only shall remember thee.

I marked his look of faithful care, I placed my hand on his shaggy side; "There is a sun that shines above, A sun that shines on both," I cried.