A SPANIEL, Beau, that fares like you, Well fed, and at his ease, Should wiser be than to pursue Each trifle that he sees. But you have killed a tiny bird Which flew not till to-day, Against my orders, whom you heard Forbidding you the prey. Nor did you kill that you might eat And ease a doggish pain; For him, though chased with furious heat, You left where he was slain. Nor was he of the thievish sort, Or one whom blood allures, But innocent was all his sport Whom you have torn for yours. My dog! what remedy remains, Since, teach you all I can, I see you, after all my pains, So much resemble man? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AELLA: MINSTREL'S MARRIAGE-SONG by THOMAS CHATTERTON CORN-LAW HYMN by EBENEZER ELLIOTT PSALM 113 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE ECHOES OF SPRING: 3 by MATHILDE BLIND THE HEATHER ON FIRE by MATHILDE BLIND SUMMER RAINSTORM by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |