Forgotten, unnoticed, Sym wended his way
To his lodging in Gosh at the close of the day.
And 'twas there, to his friend and companion of years--
To his little red dog with the funny prick ears--
That he poured out his woe; seeking nothing to hide;
And the little dog listened, his head on one side.

"O you little red dog, you are weary as I.
It is days, it is months since we saw the blue sky.
And it seems weary years since we sniffed at the breeze
As it hms thro' the hedges and sings in the trees.
These we know and we love. But this city holds fears,
O my friend of the road, with the funny prick ears.
And for what me we hope from his Worship of Quog?"
"Oh, and a bone, and a kick," said the little red dog.



X. THE DEBATE

He was a Glug of simple charm;
He wished no living creature harm.
His kindly smile like sunlight fell
On all about, and wished them well.
Yet, 'spite the cheerful soul of Sym,
The great Sir Stodge detested him.

The stern Sir Stodge and all his Swanks--
Proud Glugs of divers grades and ranks,