Yes, I loved you, my only friend.
I would stroke your silken fur,
Soft as pillows would be in Heaven.
A gift from my family when I
Was all alone, and friendless.
My love for you was agape,
Like God's love for mankind.

Yet, all things good last not.
Sickness came and it
Destroyed you, as a demon
Does the Christian unwary.
I remember when I saw you last,
Sitting on a table of gray ice.

Ribs protruded from skin sagging
Like loose, empty sacking, as spars
Protrude from the hulls of sunken ships.
Brown eyes, which had glittered as stars
In the silent, nighttime, marbled sky,
Were like glassy marbles cov'red with blue film.
Yet, you still knew me, and as he,
The executioner in his starched suit,
Came to give the painless release,
I stroked your soft, innocent head once more.
The rushing Niagra changed her course
And flowed silently from my dimming eyes.