KAISER DEAD°
Reading edition
KAISER DEAD°
April 6, 1887
What, Kaiser dead? The heavy news °2Post-haste to Cobham° calls the Muse, °3From where in Farringford° she brews The ode sublime, °5Or with Pen-bryn's bold bard° pursues A rival rhyme. Kai's bracelet tail, Kai's busy feet, Were known to all the village-street. "What, poor Kai dead?" say all I meet; 10 "A loss indeed!" O for the croon pathetic, sweet, °12 Of Robin's reed°! [p.94] Six years ago I brought him down, A baby dog, from London town; 15Round his small throat of black and brown A ribbon blue, And vouch'd by glorious renown A dachshound true. His mother, most majestic dame, °20Of blood-unmix'd, from Potsdam° came; And Kaiser's race we deem'd the same— No lineage higher. And so he bore the imperial name. But ah, his sire! 25Soon, soon the days conviction bring. The collie hair, the collie swing, The tail's indomitable ring, The eye's unrest— The case was clear; a mongrel thing 30 Kai stood confest. But all those virtues, which commend The humbler sort who serve and tend, Were thine in store, thou faithful friend. What sense, what cheer! 35To us, declining tow'rds our end, A mate how dear! For Max, thy brother-dog, began To flag, and feel his narrowing span. And cold, besides, his blue blood ran, 40 Since, 'gainst the classes, °41He heard, of late, the Grand Old Man° Incite the masses. [p.95] Yes, Max and we grew slow and sad; But Kai, a tireless shepherd-lad, 45Teeming with plans, alert, and glad In work or play, Like sunshine went and came, and bade Live out the day! Still, still I see the figure smart— °50Trophy in mouth, agog° to start, Then, home return'd, once more depart; Or prest together Against thy mistress, loving heart, In winter weather. 55I see the tail, like bracelet twirl'd, In moments of disgrace uncurl'd, Then at a pardoning word re-furl'd, A conquering sign; Crying, "Come on, and range the world, 60 And never pine." Thine eye was bright, thy coat it shone; Thou hast thine errands, off and on; In joy thy last morn flew; anon, A fit! All's over; °65And thou art gone where Geist° hath gone, And Toss, and Rover. Poor Max, with downcast, reverent head, Regards his brother's form outspread; Full well Max knows the friend is dead 70 Whose cordial talk, And jokes in doggish language said, Beguiled his walk. [p.96] And Glory, stretch'd at Burwood gate, Thy passing by doth vainly wait; 75And jealous Jock, thy only hate, °76 The chiel° from Skye,° Lets from his shaggy Highland pate Thy memory die. Well, fetch his graven collar fine, 80And rub the steel, and make it shine, And leave it round thy neck to twine, Kai, in thy grave. There of thy master keep that sign, And this plain stave.