Ballads for the Times (Now first collected,) Geraldine, A Modern Pyramid, Bartenus, A Thousand Lines, and other poems. By Martin F. Tupper. A new Edition, enlarged and revised |
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The Dog's Petition:
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 | Ballads for the Times |  |
The Dog's Petition:
Against “the Truck System.”
Babe pity, Master, on me! I scarce can drag the load,—
I all but pull my heartstrings out upon this stony road;
Yet, with a cudgel and a curse my willing toil you pay,
And leap upon the truck behind, to help me on my way!
I all but pull my heartstrings out upon this stony road;
Yet, with a cudgel and a curse my willing toil you pay,
And leap upon the truck behind, to help me on my way!
Half-starved, and weal'd and bruised, and gall'd, in every bone I ache,
And strain beneath the crushing load, as if my back would break,
The while athirst I struggle on among these dusty ruts,
And dread the mended places where the flint so sharply cuts!
And strain beneath the crushing load, as if my back would break,
The while athirst I struggle on among these dusty ruts,
And dread the mended places where the flint so sharply cuts!
O Man, O Master! Nature's hand—(it is the hand of God!)
For roads like this made stubborn hoofs,—my soft foot for the sod;
Built the strong frame of beasts of draught to pull your cart or van,
But gave me nobler sense and wish to be the friend of Man!
For roads like this made stubborn hoofs,—my soft foot for the sod;
Built the strong frame of beasts of draught to pull your cart or van,
But gave me nobler sense and wish to be the friend of Man!
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With faithful zeal to watch the flock or homestead night and day,
To chase your game, or bravely hunt the prowling beasts of prey;
With joyous love to welcome you, with courage to defend;—
O Man, art thou “the friend of God?”—then let me be thy friend.
To chase your game, or bravely hunt the prowling beasts of prey;
With joyous love to welcome you, with courage to defend;—
O Man, art thou “the friend of God?”—then let me be thy friend.
Yes,—learned lords and sporting men, who make or mar the laws,
Why hesitate such ills to cure,—for is there not a cause?
The town is quit of dog-truck-scamps and cruelties like these,
But in our lonely country lanes they torture as they please.
Why hesitate such ills to cure,—for is there not a cause?
The town is quit of dog-truck-scamps and cruelties like these,
But in our lonely country lanes they torture as they please.
No eye to see, no hand to help,—(but His, long-suffering still,
Who yet shall bless good's bruiséd heel, and crush the head of ill!)
No pity in the cruel heart to stay the hand that flogs,—
O senators, consider well the case of country-dogs.
Who yet shall bless good's bruiséd heel, and crush the head of ill!)
No pity in the cruel heart to stay the hand that flogs,—
O senators, consider well the case of country-dogs.
And for your clients, dog-truck-men,—ask all the country through,
In every village, who is worst of all their roughest crew?
They'll tell you, one and all alike, as honestly they can,
Our model rogue and thief and sot is—yonder dog-truck-man
In every village, who is worst of all their roughest crew?
They'll tell you, one and all alike, as honestly they can,
Our model rogue and thief and sot is—yonder dog-truck-man
| Ballads for the Times | |