Once upon an old winter night, there came a roaring and wailing in the wind. But home was not the dog. While I pondered weak and wearily, down the allay I went in search of my old dog, but skating and napping was not the dog.
Faintly I muttered, nearly napping, 'my dog, my old dog, where could you be, have the ever hungry hyenas had you for dinner' Tis I repeated.
Suddenly, there came a knocking and then a tapping on my old mansion door. Wearily i muttered, 'for out is the moon and up is Mr moor napping on his old chamber bed; who then would be knocking and tapping on my old mansion door'.
Faintly I stood, hestitating no longer; wider the door I opened; behold! There was the dog, my old dog, limping and tapping on my old mansion door.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem