LITTLE LOST PUP He was lost!-not a shade of doubt of that; For he never barked at a slinking cat, But stood in the square where the wind blew raw With a drooping ear and a trembling paw And a mournful look in his pleading eye And a plaintive sniff at the passer-by That begged as plain as a tongue could sue, "O Mister! please may I follow you?" A lorn wee waif of a tawny brown Adrift in the roar of a heedless town. Oh, the saddest of sights in a world of sin Is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in! Now he shares my board and he owns my bed, And he fairly shouts when he hears my tread; Then, if things go wrong, as they sometimes do, He asserts his right to assuage my woes With a warm, red tongue and a nice, cold nose And a silky head on my arm or knee And a paw as soft as a paw can be. When we rove the woods for a league about He's as full of pranks as a school let out; For he romps and frisks like a three months' colt, And he runs me down like a thunderbolt. Oh, the blithest of sights in the world so fair Is a gay little pup with his tail in the air!