GOLDWIN SMITH

OF all the tiny race of Skye, The prettiest, so friends say, am I; My name is Flossy, well-bestowed, A silkier coat Skye never shewed! With sable back, and silver head, Blue bow, and feathery paws outspread, As on my crimson rug I lie, What fairer sight for painter's eye? Short are my legs, yet mark my pace Whene'er I cats or postmen chase! In human language if I fail, What so expressive as my tail? See how it wags, as if to say, "Dear mistress, a glad wedding day!" Though bounded is my being's range, And knows no world beyond The Grange— A universe by half-a-span Less than the universe of man— Yet am I Queen of all I see, The household are but slaves to me. Let others toil the livelong day, I play and sleep, and sleep and play; Or in my carriage proudly ride With two fair ladies at my side. Gaily I live, by all caressed, And in a doting mistress blessed! Affection's happiness I prove, And see no fault in those I love; Nor when my little bones are laid Beneath the turf on which I played, Nor when the rug which now I press Each winter's eve is Flossieless, Shall Flossy die; but pictured here To her loved mistress still be dear.