DOG PRINCE.
Reading edition
“Shake hands, Prince!” Black as a coal, and curly, too. Is the dog I introduce to you. He gives at once his right-hand paw, None a softer one ever saw.
“Beg, Prince!” Up he rises on his hind legs, Flies both little fore-feet, and begs, Not for money, nor food, nor clothes, But merely to show how much he knows. “Speak, Prince!” You’d think from that first growling note, He’d a bumble-bee inside his throat; ’Tis not a bee, but only a bark; For answer, shrill and eager, hark!
“Roll over, Prince!” He’ll do all other things you ask; But this is a task, a dreadful task. He hates the dust on his silky hide And in the fringe of his ears beside. “Roll over, I say!” Such a struggle as he goes through; He wants to do it, and don’t want to! He rubs one black ear on the floor, Rubs a little, and nothing more. “Ah, Prince! Ah, Prince!” Do you call that minding? Yet, I find Yours is a common way to mind: Willing to do what you like to best, And only half-way doing the rest. MRS. CLARA DOTY BATES.
