My Dog Dash

I have a dog of Blenheim birth,
With fine long ears and full of mirth;
And sometimes, running o'er the plain,
He tumbles on his nose:
But quickly jumping up again,
Like lightning on he goes!
'Tis queer to watch his gambols gay;
He's very loving—in his way:
He even wants to lick your face,
But that is somewhat out of place.
'Tis well enough your hand to kiss;
But Dash is not content with this!
Howe'er, let all his faults be past,
I'll praise him to the very last.

John Ruskin (1819-1900)