To a Lady with an Unruly and Ill-mannered Dog Who Bit several Persons of Importance

Your dog is not a dog of grace;
    He does not wag the tail or beg;
    He bit Miss Dickson in the face;
    He bit a Bailie in the leg.

    What tragic choices such a dog
    Presents to visitor or friend!
    Outside there is the Glasgow fog;
    Within, a hydrophobic end.

    Yet some relief even terror brings,
  For when our life is cold and gray
  We waste our strength on little things,
  And fret our puny souls away.

  A snarl! A scruffle round the room!
  A sense that Death is drawing near!
  And human creatures reassume
  The elemental robe of fear.

  So when my colleague makes his moan
  Of careless cooks, and warts, and debt,
  -- Enlarge his views, restore his tone,
  And introduce him to your Pet!

Quod Raleigh.