University of Virginia Library


130

TO OUR LITTLE DOG DOT.

O little loving heart
So gently laid asleep;
The traces of thy life in ours
How many and how deep!
The bark of eager glee,
Welcome, reproof, command,
The small foot knocking at the door
Laid gently in the hand.
The tender, answering eyes,
The planning, eager will,
The following steps—without them all
“Dot's house” seems very still.
Worlds of dear memories
Seem in thy grave to lie,

131

Of love and fun, dark days and bright—
We will not let them die!
Playmate “commander,” care,
Our little steadfast friend,
Thy life leaves legacies of love
On to its quiet end.
Loving us all so well,
With different love for each,
Unchanged through absences of years;—
Death wakes thy life to speech!
“Love more and more,” it says,
“For love alone is strong;
You made my little life so bright,
Your longest is not long.”
Such wealth of love behind,
Can nothing lie before?
Or has the future only this,
“Never again,” “no more?”
From darling childish lips
The answer comes to me,
With the sweet wisdom of the babes—
Dear little child of three!

132

“When Dot grows up,” he said,
“Then she will learn to speak.”
Bright vision of the children's heart,—
Further we need not seek!
For love alone is life,
And love alone is strong;
And love lives in eternal worlds
Beyond earth's poor “How long?”
Yes, only love is life,
And love means “thee” and “me,”—
God, who is love, will never let
Love cease to love, or be.
May 9, 1885.
 

Dot died in her sleep.

The name given to our house by a little girl of three.