When I come to the end of my journey,
And I travel my last weary mile,
Just forget if you can, that I ever frowned,
And remember only the smile.
Forget unkind words I have spoken,
Remember good I have done,
Forget that I have ever had heartache,
And remember I've had loads of fun.
Forget that I've stumbled and blundered,
And sometimes fell by the way,
Remember I have fought some hard battles,
And won, ere the close of the day.
Then forget to grieve for my going,
I would not have you sad for a day,
But in summer just gather some flowers,
And remember the place where I lay.
And come in the shade of the evening,
When the sun paints the sky in the west,
Stand fore a few moments beside me,
And remember only the best.
~Mrs. Lyman Hancock~
Treat me kindly, my beloved friend,
for no heart in all the world is
more grateful for kindness
than the loving heart of me.
Do not break my spirit with a stick,
for though I might lick your hand between blows,
your patience and understanding will more
quickly teach me the things you would have me learn.
Speak to me often,
for your voice is the world's sweetest music,
as you must know by the fierce wagging of my tail
when the sound of your footstep falls upon my waiting ear.
Please keep me inside when it is cold and wet,
for I am a domesticated animal,
no longer accustomed to bitter elements.
I ask no greater glory
than the privilege of sitting at your feet besides the hearth.
Keep my pan filled with fresh water,
for I cannot tell you when I
suffer thirst.
Feed me clean food that I may stay well,
to romp and play and do your bidding,
to walk by your side, and stand ready,
willing and able to protect you with my life,
should your life be in danger.
And my friend, when I am very old
and I no longer enjoy good heath, hearing and sight,
do not make heroic efforts to keep me going.
I am not having any fun.
Please see to it that my life is taken gently.
I shall leave this earth knowing with the last breath I drew
that my fate was always safest in your loving hands....
~Beth Norman Harris~
Love? I will tell thee what it is to love!
It is to build with human thoughts a shrine.
Where hope sits brooding like a beautious dove;
Where time seems young, and Life a thing divine.
All tastes, all pleasures, all desires combine
To consecrate this sanctuary of bliss.
Above the stars in cloudless beauty shine;
Around the streams their flowery margins kiss.
And if there's heaven on earth, that heaven is surely this.
Yes this is love, the steadfast and the true,
The immortal glory which hath never set;
The best, the brightest boon the heart e'er knew:
Of all life's sweets the very sweetest yet!
O' who can but recall the eve they met
To breathe in some green walk, their first young vow?
While summer flowers with moonlight dews were wet,
And winds sighed soft around the mountain's brow.
Annd all was rapture then which is but memory now!
~Charles Swain~
