Me Friend.

He tells me that he loves me, so he does,
With his eyes and ears and smile and waggin' tail.
And I tell him it is true—
That I love him dearly too,
And our love is of the stuff that doesn't fail.
Then we shake a paw upon it and I pat him on the head,
And he leans up close against me and softly licks me arm—
Oh, the tender warm caressin'!
For sure it is his blessin'
To keep me from the evil that is harm!
A friend's a mighty comfort to be sure,
When your luck is gone and you are down and out!
When the blows of Fate they fall,
And your back's against the wall,
His faith can brace you for another clout.
Though I haven't got two coppers to jingle in me vest,
And am tattered at the elbow and ragged at the knee,
We'll face the world together,
In fair or stormy weather,
And whatever's there we'll meet it—him and me.

—A. Bower Poynter.