The Dead Dog Poem by Richard Chenebix Trench

For the man whose heart and eye
Are made wise by charity,
Something will appear always
That may have his honest praise;
There will glimmer points of light
In the darkest, saddest night.
Thus a crowd once gathered round
The dead carcase of an hound;
Flung upon the open way,
In the market-plate it lay;
And the idle multitude,
Vulture-like, around it stood,
One exclaiming, 'I declare
That he poisons quite the air:'
But the next, 'He is not worth
Pains of putting under earth;'
And against the poor dead thing
Each in turn his stone must fling:
Till one wiser passing by,
Just exclaimed, while eagerly
They were venting each his spite,--
'See his teeth, how pearly white!'
Straight the others, with self-blame,
Shrunk away in silent shame.