Rudyard Kipling
(1865-1936)
There is sorrow enough in the
natural way
From men and women to fill our
day;
But when we are certain of the
sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for
more?
Brothers and sisters, I bid
you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog
to tear.
Buy a puppy and your money will
buy
Love unflinching that cannot
lie-
Perfect passion and worship
fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat
on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog
to tear.
When in the fourteen years which
nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumor,
or fits,
And the vet's unspoken prescription
runs
To lethal chambers or loaded
guns,
Then you will find-it's your
own affair,
But...you've given your heart
to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your
single will,
When the whimper of welcome
is stilled (how still),
When the spirit that answered
your every mood
Is gone-wherever it goes- for
good,
You will discover how much you
care,
And will give your heart to
a dog to tear!
We've sorrow enough in the natural
way,
When it comes to burying Christian
clay.
Our loves are not given, but
only lent,
At compound interest of cent
per cent.
Though it is not always the
case, I believe,
That the longer we've kept'em,
the more do we grieve:
For when debts are payable,
right or wrong,
A short-term loan is as bad
as a long.
So why in Heaven (before we
are there!)
Should we give our hearts to
a dog to tear?
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