Who’s this—alone with stone and sky?
It’s only my old dog and I—
It’s only him; it’s only me;
Alone with stone and grass and tree.
What share we most—we two together?
Smells, and awareness of the weather.
What is it makes us more than dust?
My trust in him; in me his trust.
Here’s anyhow one decent thing
That life to man and dog can bring;
One decent thing, remultiplied
Till earth’s last dog and man have died.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Good old Sassoon! Remember reading him in English class? All those sad poems about WWI? I like this one much more than the battlefield ones. (And isn’t that photo of Sendak and his dog sweet? He had German shepherds all his life, apparently.)
Happy Thanksgiving weekend, everyone! I’ll be out of commission for the rest of the week and am looking forward to spending some quality time with Dublin & Co. and Aoive. Hope your weekend is peaceful and bright. See you Monday.
“The loneliness and solitude of man can be dispersed by spiritual intercourse, but man is of the earth, too, and Nature lives in him and holds him fast. She is his mother, and just as in all young things that stray from home there is a yearning after associations which recall the color and the atmosphere of the old home now lost, so does the solitary man seek Nature, a life in Nature; Nature’s answer, the animal that understands his voice and respond to it.”