The China Dog

He lives by himself in a shelf in our hall,

But he never barks when people call;

He never teases for cake at tea,

Or wags his tail at sight of me,

Stiffly it curls about his back,

Where the spots are painted brown and black.

He has a sad, unblinking eye

And I always pat him when I go by.

If I knew the magic words to say

He would leave that shelf this very day!

He'd not be a china dog at all,

Solemn and stiff against a wall,

But he'd bark and follow me everywhere

And nip my fingers and lick my hair,

While every single night he'd be

Snuggled up warm in bed with me!