Lie here, without a record of thy worth, Beneath a covering of the common earth! It is not from unwillingness to praise, Or want of love, that here no stone we raise; More thou deservest; but _this_ man gives to man, Brother to brother, _this_ is all we can. Yet they to whom thy virtues made thee dear Shall find thee through all changes of the year: This oak points out thy grave; the silent tree Will gladly stand a monument of thee. Cowper, who tenderly loved all animals, did not fail to honour a dog with a poetical tribute in The Dog and the Water Lily, celebrating the devotion of “my spaniel, prettiest of his race.” It was the time when Ouse displayed His lilies newly blown; Their beauties I intent surveyed, And one I wished my own. With cane extended far, I sought To steer it close to land; But still the prize, though nearly caught, Escaped my eager hand. Beau marked my unsuccessful pains With fixed, considerate face, And puzzling set his puppy brains To comprehend, the case. But chief myself, I will enjoin, Awake at duty’s call, To show a love as prompt as thine To Him who gives us all. But with a chirrup clear and strong, Dispersing all his dream, I thence withdrew, and followed long The windings of the stream. My ramble finished, I returned. Beau, trotting far before, The floating wreath again discerned, And, plunging, left the shore. I saw him, with that lily cropped, Impatient swim to meet My quick approach, and soon he dropped The treasure at my feet. Charmed with this sight, the world, I cried, Shall hear of this, thy deed: My dog shall mortify the pride Of man’s superior breed. Forster tells us fully of Dickens’s devotion to his many dogs, quoting the novelist’s inimitable way of describing his favourites. In Dr. Marigold there is an especially good bit about “me and my dog.”