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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=37829" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Kaiser Dead</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">What, Kaiser dead? The heavy news<br>Post-haste to Cobden calls the Muse,<br>From where in Farringford she brews<br> The ode sublime,<br>Or with Pen-bryn's bold bard pursues<br> A rival rhyme.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Kai's bracelet tail, Kai's busy feet,<br>Were known to all the village street.<br>"What, poor Kai dead?" say all I meet;<br> "A loss indeed!"<br>O for the croon pathetic, sweet,<br> Of Robin's reed!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Six years ago I brought him down,<br>A baby dog, from London town;<br>Round his small throat of black and brown<br> A ribbon blue,<br>And vouch'd by glorious renown<br> A dachshound true.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">His mother, most majestic dame,<br>Of blood unmix'd, from Potsdam came;<br>And Kaiser's race we deem'd the same —<br> No lineage higher.<br>And so he bore the imperial name.<br> But ah, his sire!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Soon, soon the days conviction bring.<br>The collie hair, the collie swing,<br>The tail's indomitable ring,<br> The eye's unrest —<br>The case was clear; a mongrel thing<br> Kai stood confest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But all those virtues, which commend<br>The humbler sort who serve and tend,<br>Were thine in store, thou faithful friend.<br> What sense, what cheer!<br>To us, declining tow'rds our end,<br> A mate how dear!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For Max, thy brother-dog, began<br>To flag, and feel his narrowing span.<br>And cold, besides, his blue blood ran,<br> Since, 'gainst the classes,<br>He heard, of late, the Grand Old Man<br> Incite the masses.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, Max and we grew slow and sad;<br>But Kai, a tireless shepherd-lad,<br>Teeming with plans, alert, and glad<br> In work or play,<br>Like sunshine went and came, and bade<br> Live out the day!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Still, still I see the figure smart —<br>Trophy in mouth, agog to start,<br>Then, home return'd, once more depart;<br> Or prest together<br>Against thy mistress, loving heart,<br> In winter weather.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I see the tail, like bracelet twirl'd,<br>In moments of disgrace uncurl'd,<br>Then at a pardoning word refurl'd,<br> A conquering sign;<br>Crying, "Come on, and range the world,<br> And never pine."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thine eye was bright, thy coat it shone;<br>Thou hadst thine errands, off and on;<br>In joy thy last morn flew; anon,<br> A fit! All's over<br>And thou art gone where Geist hath gone,<br> And Toss, and Rover.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Poor Max, with downcast, reverent head,<br>Regards his brother's form outspread;<br>Full well Max knows the friend is dead<br> Whose cordial talk,<br>And jokes in doggish language said,<br> Beguiled his walk.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And Glory, stretch'd at Burwood gate,<br>Thy passing by doth vainly wait;<br>And jealous Jock, thy only hate,<br> The chiel from Skye,<br>Lets from his shaggy Highland pate<br> Thy memory die.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, fetch his graven collar fine,<br>And rub the steel, and make it shine,<br>And leave it round thy neck to twine,<br> Kai, in thy grave.<br>There of thy master keep that sign,<br> And this plain stave.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Matthew+Arnold">Matthew Arnold</a> from <i>Littell's Living Age, vol. 174</i><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=37829" data-title="Kaiser Dead de Matthew Arnold" data-description="What, Kaiser dead? The heavy news/Post-haste to Cobden calls the Muse,/From where in Farringford she brews/ The ode sublime,/Or with Pen-bryn's bold bard pursues/ A rival rhyme./Kai's bracelet tail, Kai's busy feet,/Were known to all the village..."></div> </div> </div>
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