AT THE DOG SHOW

Long and grey and gaunt he lies,

A Lincoln among dogs; his eyes,

Deep and clear of sight, appraise

The meaningless and shuffling ways

Of human folk that stop to stare.

One witless woman seeing there

How tired, how contemptuous

He is of all the smell and fuss

Asks him, “Poor fellow, are you sick?”

Yea, sick, and weary to the quick

Of heat and noise from dawn to dark.

He will not even stoop to bark

His protest, like the lesser bred.

Would he might know, one gazer read

The wistful longing in his face,

The thirst for wind and open space

And stretch of limbs to him begrudged.

There came a little, dapper, fat

And bustling man, with cane and spat

And pearl-grey vest and derby hat —

Such were the judger and the judged!