O faithful friend with eager eyes, thy bounding step is light,
Thy soul unchained by greed or guile, thy love a beacon bright.
No king upon his golden throne, nor lord in silken grace,
Hath known such joy as I have found within thy warm embrace.
Through woodland glades and meadows wide, where silver brooklets run,
Thou leap’st with mirth, thy spirit free beneath the shining sun.
Thy laughter barks, thy tail's delight, a song both pure and strong,
As if the earth and sky conspired to weave thee into song.
Yet cruel the years that steal thee hence, too swift thy fleeting day,
The frost of time upon thy brow, thy step grown slow and grey.
One mournful morn I call thy name, and silence walks behind,
Yet still I hear thy echoed tread within my heart and mind.
But woe to him whose heart is blind, who spurns thy noble kind,
For darkness clouds the soulless man, no love his path shall find.
His hand is cold, his breath is void, his spirit wan and thin,
No warmth of paw nor trusting gaze shall e'er be felt within.
But blest is he whose soul is bright, who walks with thee in cheer,
Who finds in thee a steadfast love unspoiled by doubt or fear.
For heaven’s halls, though high and vast, would echo lone and grim,
Had not the hound, in boundless joy, been there to welcome him.
So run, my friend, through golden fields where time shall never creep,
And wait for me beyond the stars, until I wake from sleep.
(By John Shenton)