My Dog, Benbow

Somewhere beside the myrtle rose blooming white By nutgrass overgrown, a palm tree sways in soft moonlight Like an angel from the throne, and somewhere there In your long forgotten bed sleep your bones alone And though distant, for childhood I almost feel a tear Benbow lies forgotten there, the first dog I ever owned Some evening when the light was dim, without a call He took his place at the front steps, surveying all No more bones for him, no more sleight of teasing throw No more joy to see him stand, fore legs paddling the air Hind legs secure on the ground, then spinning to show Dexterity, rolled on his back to our gleeful cheer. My father named him for the English admiral those days Gave him as hero, the sea dogs of Great England’s praise Are but distant mist to me, but not my dear Benbow My trusted dog, my loyal friend, ran over by a car And leaving vacations behind returned a little low Benbow was not there to leap and greet, his only czar. I never owned another dog since, never could replace The love I bore for my Benbow, a scrub exalted by its grace When hunting mongoose in pingwing patch, or scaring The clever kestrels from its swooping flight to spare The hen house its tragic day. The time staccato barking In four-part harmony is gone, the porch is sadly bare. No Benbow will ever chase again a fleet footed boy Gurgling fountains of joy, O how these memories annoy My soul, time reaping our happiness first, and then us Stripping our best possessions away, making us naked Before returning us to barren bowels of brimless dust. What had my dog to do with sin or fate among the wicked? O Benbow, and old man needs a friend to walk at nights A little boy needed a dog to be undefeated in all his fights.