Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/204

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And knit; and her old dog lay at her feetAnd slept in the sun; 'twas an old favourite dog, She did not love him less that he was old And feeble, and he always had a place By the fire-side: and when he died at lastShe made me dig a grave in the garden for him. Ah! she was good to all! a woful day 'Twas for the poor when to her grave she went!STRANGER.They lost a friend then?OLD MAN.You're a stranger hereOr would not ask that question. Were they sick? She had rare cordial waters, and for herbs She could have taught the Doctors. Then at winterWhen weekly she distributed the bread In the poor old porch, to see her and to hear The blessings on her! and I warrant them They were a blessing to her when her wealth Had been no comfort else. At Christmas, Sir!
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