The Collarless Dog - A poem by Albert Bigelow Paine

The Collarless Dog.

IN the mire and the slush, in the grovelling rush
Of the dirtiest street in the city,
A miserable waif, uncared for, unsafe,
Unknown to protection or pity,
I am seeking for bread, to get beatings instead
Or morsels unfit for a hog^___
I am leading a life of contemptible strife,
For I'm only a collarless dog.

I skulk, and I hide on the opposite side
Of the street, and I shiver and start
When I see in the distance that bane of existence,
The merciless dog-catcher's cart.
No shelter, no home, and I ceaselessly roam,
The street gamins kick me and flog,
No pity they know for a being so low
As a miserable collarless dog.

Philanthropists, hark to my pitiful bark
As you daintily trip on your way;
Do you think you'll discover, the city all over,
A being more wretched to-day ?
They only throw stones ! as if skin covered bones
Had feelings no more than a log;
And little I care, I am used to hard fare
For I'm only a collarless dog.

Full well do I know that I some day shall go
By the route that my brothers have passed;
For the dog-catcher's cart, and his merciless art
Will win in the struggle at last.
Then, away to the pound, no more to be found
In humanity's bustle and clog,
And a plunge in the river will wind up forever
The woes of a collarless dog.

^__Albert Bigelow Paine.