To the Brownes' pug dog, on my lap, in their car, coming home from Norfolk.
O Pug, some people do not like you,
But I like you,
Some people say you do not breathe, you snore,
I don't mind,
One person says he is always conscious of your behind,
Is that your fault?
Your own people love you,
All the people in the family that owns you
Love you: Good pug, they cry, Happy pug,
You are an old dog now
And in all your life
You have never had cause for a moment's anxiety,
In those great eyes of yours,
Those liquid and protuberant orbs,
Lies the shadow of immense insecurity. There
Yes, yes, I know,
When your mistress is with you,
When your master
Takes you upon his lap,
Just then, for a moment,
Almost you are not frightened.
But at heart you are frightened, you always have been.
O Pug, obstinate old nervous breakdown,
In the midst of so much love,
And such comfort,
Still to feel unsafe and be afraid,
How one's heart goes out to you!
Source: Collected Poems