$(window).on("load", function () { ga('send', 'event', 'Şiir Detay', 'Şiir Okuma', 'en'); ga('send', 'event', 'Video İzleme', 'Videolu Şiir Ziyaretçi', 'en'); });
Menu

Rupert Brooke

Warwickshire / England

The Little Dog's Day

Rating: 2.8
All in the town were still asleep,
When the sun came up with a shout and a leap.
In the lonely streets unseen by man,
A little dog danced. And the day began.

All his life he'd been good, as far as he could,
And the poor little beast had done all that he should.
But this morning he swore, by Odin and Thor
And the Canine Valhalla—he'd stand it no more!

So his prayer he got granted—to do just what he wanted,
Prevented by none, for the space of one day.
"Jam incipiebo, sedere facebo,"
In dog-Latin he quoth, "Euge! sophos! hurray!"

He fought with the he-dogs, and winked at the she-dogs,
A thing that had never been heard of before.
"For the stigma of gluttony, I care not a button!" he
Cried, and ate all he could swallow—and more.

He took sinewy lumps from the shins of old frumps,
And mangled the errand-boys—when he could get 'em.
He shammed furious rabies, and bit all the babies,
And followed the cats up the trees, and then ate 'em!"

They thought 'twas the devil was holding a revel,
And sent for the parson to drive him away;
For the town never knew such a hullabaloo
As that little dog raised—till the end of that day.

When the blood-red sun had gone burning down,
And the lights were lit in the little town,
Outside, in the gloom of the twilight grey,
The little dog died when he'd had his day.
Rupert Brooke
Monday, January 13, 2003
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS
Abderrahmane Dakir 28 February 2016
Nice poem about the short life of the dog. Thank you Rupert Brooke for this poem.
0 0 Reply

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

1/26/2021 8:03:02 PM # 1.0.0.442