My Red Setter, Who Died In 1944 - Poem by Rodney Barnett
Just for a dog, our hearts are bled;
Those glistening eyes, that noble head,
That coat of rich and golden red
No more are seen, for Don is dead.
Such splendour fails not, as his breath -
Long as his memory lingereth
His beauty liveth on through death.
Comments about My Red Setter, Who Died In 1944 by Rodney Barnett
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Rodney Barnett's Other Poems
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You