 | Poetics
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ODE XXII. TO A HUMBLE FRIEND.
Poor animal! when thou didst come to me,
Thou look'dst so meager, suppliant, and meek,
So wanting pity, that I pitied thee:
My offer'd crust fearful thou seem'dst to take,
Yet taking, lick'dst my hand so gratefully,
Shiv'ring with fondness: and thy look did speak,
Needing no voice: “Oh! take me, let me be
“Thy humble friend, content with humblest fare.”
—Such hast thou been, poor dog, and well we met,
Thou, a poor outcast; I, a solitaire.
Now 'tis agreed, who first pays Nature's debt,
If, (as well I know thou'lt mourn my end)
I'll write, “Here lies a well-proved, humble Friend.
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