The House Dog's Grave
By Robinson Jeffers
An Animal Rights Poem from All-Creatures.org

I’ve changed my ways a little; I cannot now 
Run with you in the evenings along the shore, 
Except in a kind of dream; and you, 
If you dream a moment, 
You see me there.

So leave awhile the paw-marks on the front door 
Where I used to scratch to go out or in, 
And you’d soon open; leave on the kitchen floor 
The marks of my drinking-pan.
I cannot lie by your fire as I used to do 
On the warm stone,
Nor at the foot of your bed; no, 
All the nights through I lie alone.
But your kind thought has laid me less than six feet 
Outside your window where firelight so often plays, 
And where you sit to read— 
And I fear often grieving for me— 
Every night your lamplight lies on my place.
You, man and woman, live so long, it is hard 
To think of you ever dying. 
A little dog would get tired, living so long. 
I hope that when you are lying 
Under the ground like me your lives will appear 
As good and joyful as mine. No, dears, that’s too much hope: 
You are not so well cared for as I have been. 
And never have known the passionate undivided
Fidelities that I knew. 
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many-sided... 
But to me you were true.

You were never masters, but friends. I was your friend.
I loved you well, and was loved. Deep love endures
To the end and far past the end. If this is my end,
I am not lonely. I am not afraid. I am still yours.