An Elegy On The Death Of A Mad Dog Poem by Oliver Goldsmith

An Elegy On The Death Of A Mad Dog

Rating: 3.6

Good people all, of every sort,
Give ear unto my song;
And if you find it wondrous short,
It cannot hold you long.

In Islington there was a man
Of whom the world might say,
That still a godly race he ran—
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked every day he clad—
When he put on his clothes.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,
Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound,
And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at first were friends;
But when a pique began,
The dog, to gain some private ends,
Went mad, and bit the man.

Around from all the neighbouring streets
The wond'ring neighbours ran,
And swore the dog had lost its wits
To bite so good a man.

The wound it seemed both sore and sad
To every Christian eye;
And while they swore the dog was mad,
They swore the man would die.

But soon a wonder came to light
That showed the rogues they lied,—
The man recovered of the bite,
The dog it was that died!

Monday, January 13, 2003
Topic(s) of this poem: dog
Amar Agarwala 27 May 2016

Never remember reading a more stunning elegy. One of the marvels penned down by Oliver Goldsmith. It deserves a perfect 10!

3 0 Reply
Abderrahmane Dakir 28 February 2016

Nice poem abut the loyal dogs. Thank you Mr. Olivier for this poem.

2 0 Reply
Brian Jani 05 May 2014

Nice poem Oliver

2 2 Reply
Oliver Goldsmith

Oliver Goldsmith

County Longford / Ireland
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