The Yapping Cur
I WAS walking in the sun, my day's work
And the great world rolled like a wheel,
When a cur came yapping, came yap-yap-
When a cur came yapping at my heel.
Along the pleasant way where the little folk
Past the church, where the grown folk
The tiresome, monotonous, interminable yap-
The yapping of the cur at my heel!
Were he hungry I would feed him at my cot
Where are hearts that have hungred and
He is fed as well as I am, and housed as well
And his pastime is yapping at one's
Shall I send him all asprawl from my good
Turn his yapping to a yelping and a
Nay, leave him to the thing Fate fashioned
him to do—
His dog's-work of yapping at one's heel.
For God made the arrows that around life
And the thunders that above life peal,
And He made, too, the miserable, mangy little
And its instinct for yapping at one's heel.
William Watson. Retrogression and Other Poems. London: John Lane, The Bodley Head, 1917.