I've changed my ways a little; I cannot now run with you in the evening along the shore, Exceptin a kind of dream; and you, if you dreamt a moment, too see me there.
so leave awhile the paw-marks along the front door where I used to scratch and go out or in, and you'd soon open' and you'd soon open; leave on the kichen 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 night through I lie alone. but your kind thought has laid me less than six feet outside your window where the firelight so often plays, and where you sit to read--and I fear grieving for me-- every night your lamplight lies on my play.
you, man, and woman live so long, it's hard to think of you ever dying a little dog would get tired of living so long. I hope that then you are lying
under the ground like me your lives will appear as good and joyful as mine. no, dear, thtat's to much hope: you are not cared for as I have been. and never have known the passionate undivided fidelities that I knew.
your minds are perhaps to active, to many sided... but to me were true.
you were never masters, but friends. I was your friend. I loved you well' and was well 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.