Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Bon Voyage, "Mischief" - - 1995-2008

A Damn Good Girl
The House Dog's Grave
(Haig, an English bulldog)

I've changed my ways a little; I cannot now
Run with you in the evenings along the shore,
Except in a kind of dream; and you, if you dream a moment,
You see me there.

So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door
Where I used to scratch to go out or in,
And you'd soon open; leave on the kitchen floor
The marks of my drinking-pan.

I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do
On the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed; no, all the night through
I lie alone.

But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet
Outside your window where firelight so often plays,
And where you sit to read--and I fear often grieving for me--
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.

You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard
To think of you ever dying
A little dog would get tired, living so long.
I hope than when you are lying

Under the ground like me your lives will appear
As good and joyful as mine.

No, dear, that's too much hope: you are not so well cared for
As I have been.
And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided. . . .

But to me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved.
Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end.
If this is my end,

I am not lonely.
I am not afraid. I am still yours.

Robinson Jeffers, 1941

3 comments:

Lamb Cannon said...

in the middle of all the crap o' the day i stopped to read your blog as i always do and burst out blubbering like a child

Woody (Tokin' Lib'rul/Rogue Scholar & O'erall Helluvafella!) said...

We weep for ourselves as much as for them. In this, they bestow on us their last favor.

Anonymous said...

I just came upon your blog by accident, and it was like an angel sitting on my shoulder. I also had a dog named Mischief who was born in 1995 and passed away in the fall of 2008. Her collar still hangs on a door handle in our family room. Thanks for your poem.