 | Edward Cracroft Lefroy: His Life and Poems
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XCIV
ON A DULL DOG
This dog was dull. He had so little wit
That other dogs would flout him, nose in air.
But was he therefore wretched? Did he care
How dogdom snarled, or even think of it?
He thought of nothing, but all day would sit
Warm in the sun, with placid vacant stare,
Content, at ease, oblivious, unaware;
And all because—he had so little wit!
O happy dulness which is dull indeed,
And cannot hear the critic-world's “Go hang!”
Small bliss we get from our too-conscious breed,
We semi-dullards of the middle gang!
To mark the rose, and know one's-self a weed,
And know that others know,—there lies the pang!
| Edward Cracroft Lefroy: His Life and Poems
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