| Broken Hearts
written by William Henry Davies
|From "The Birth Of Song", 1936||Link to further information|
My dog creeps into my shadowed form,
And takes my foot to rest his head;
It is his love of me, I know,
That warms his cold, hard bed.
Women have died of broken hearts,
And men have reached the same disaster;
But the likeliest thing to die is a dog
That waits for its dead Master.
The King is dead, by millions mourned,
That bared their heads, or wept, or sighed;
The dog, that waited for him in vain,
Has broken its heart, and died.
So end two lives, and one so small a thing -
It never knew its Master was a King.
|This work is in the public domain in countries where the copyright term is the author's life plus 70 years or less.|