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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386546" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Beyond the blue</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Speak of you, sir? You bet he did. Ben Fields was far too sound <br>To go back on a fellow just because he weren't around. <br>Why, sir, he thought a lot of you, and only three months back <br>Says he, &quot;The Squire will some time come a-snuffing out our track <br>And give us the surprise.&quot; And so I got to thinking then <br>That any day you might drop down on Rove, and me, and Ben. <br>And now you've come for nothing, for the lad has left us two, <br>And six long weeks ago, sir, he went up beyond the blue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Who's Rove? Oh, he's the collie, and the only thing on earth <br>That I will ever love again. Why, Squire, that dog is worth <br>More than you ever handled, and that's quite a piece, I know. <br>Ah, there the beggar is!--come here, you scalawag! and show <br>Your broken leg all bandaged up. Yes, sir, it's pretty sore; <br>I did it,--curse me,--and I think I feel the pain far more <br>Than him, for somehow I just feel as if I'd been untrue <br>To what my brother said before he went beyond the blue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">You see, the day before he died he says to me, &quot;Say, Ned, <br>Be sure you take good care of poor old Rover when I'm dead, <br>And maybe he will cheer your lonesome hours up a bit, <br>And when he takes to you just see that you're deserving it.&quot; <br>Well, Squire, it wasn't any use. I tried, but couldn't get <br>The friendship of that collie, for I needed it, you bet. <br>I might as well have tried to get the moon to help me through, <br>For Rover's heart had gone with Ben, 'way up beyond the blue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He never seemed to take to me nor follow me about, <br>For all I coaxed and petted, for my heart was starving out <br>For want of some companionship,--I thought, if only he <br>Would lick my hand or come and put his head aside my knee, <br>Perhaps his touch would scatter something of the gloom away. <br>But all alone I had to live until there came a day <br>When, tired of the battle, as you'd have tired too, <br>I wished to heaven I'd gone with Ben, 'way up beyond the blue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> . . . . . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One morning I took out Ben's gun, and thought I'd hunt all day, <br>And started through the clearing for the bush that forward lay, <br>When something made me look around--I scarce believed my mind-- <br>But, sure enough, the dog was following right close behind. <br>A feeling first of joy, and than a sharper, greater one <br>Of anger came, at knowing 'twas not me, but Ben's old gun, <br>That Rove was after,--well, sir, I just don't mind telling you, <br>But I forgot that moment Ben was up beyond the blue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Perhaps it was but jealousy--perhaps it was despair, <br>But I just struck him with the gun and broke the bone right there; <br>And then--my very throat seemed choked, for he began to whine <br>With pain--God knows how tenderly I took that dog of mine <br>Up in my arms, and tore my old red necktie into bands <br>To bind the broken leg, while there he lay and licked my hands; <br>And though I cursed my soul, it was the brightest day I knew, <br>Or even cared to live, since Ben went up beyond the blue. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I tell you, Squire, I nursed him just as gently as could be, <br>And now I'm all the world to him, and he's the world to me. <br>Look, sir, at that big, noble soul, right in his faithful eyes, <br>The square, forgiving honesty that deep down in them lies. <br>Eh, Squire? What's that you say? He's got no soul? I tell you, then, <br>He's grander and he's better than the mass of what's called men; <br>And I guess he stands a better chance than many of us do <br>Of seeing Ben some day again, 'way up beyond the blue.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Pauline+Johnson">Emily Pauline Johnson</a><div class=q>
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Speak of you, sir? You bet he did. Ben Fields was far too sound 
To go back on a fellow just because he weren't around. 
Why, sir, he thought a lot of you, and only three months back 
Says he, &quot;The Squire will some time come a-snuffing ou..."></div>
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