Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Ireland: Vol. V. 1876–79.
The Harper
By Thomas Campbell (17771844)O
No blithe Irish lad was so happy as I;
No harp like my own could so cheerily play,
And wherever I went was my poor dog Tray.
She said (while the sorrow was big at her heart),
“O, remember your Sheelah when far, far away;
And be kind, my dear Pat, to our poor dog Tray.”
And he constantly loved me, although I was poor;
When the sour-looking folks sent me heartless away,
I had always a friend in my poor dog Tray.
And Pat and his dog were grown weary and old,
How snugly we slept in my old coat of gray,
And he licked me for kindness,—my poor dog Tray.
Nor refused my last crust to his pitiful face;
But he died at my feet on a cold winter day,
And I played a sad lament for my poor dog Tray.
Can I find one to guide me, so faithful and kind?
To my sweet native village, so far, far away,
I can nevermore return with my poor dog Tray.