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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 12, Issue 8 (November 1, 1937)

The Sheep Dog

The Sheep Dog.

His baby plume would wave in glee
When on our walks we chanced to see
Some timid, noisy flock.
He was a scrap of tan and black—
His sire, they said, was Ayrshire Mac,
Of ancient, noble stock.
I housed him in my garden small;
At first he did not mind at all
The tameness of his home.
But as he grew in powerful grace
He grew in boredom of the place
And longed for hills to roam.
He dreamed of dogs and shouting men—
Of wise and wily sheep to pen—
Of action all the day.
Until, with bitter tear and ache,
His heritage I let him take;
He wanted it that way.