The Passing of a Friend in Words


For many of us who love our pets as members of the family and who also like to write, poetry seems a natural why to let our feeling be known. Many of the greatest poets have written about their pets and it was common for aristocracy to have their portraits painted with their favorite dogs. Most of the poems written about our pets are of memories or of the sadness after they are gone.

As a writer and poet I am no different and found writing about my dog Blu and he death a part of the healing process.

So I offer you two poems, the first by Lord Bryon about his favorite dog Boswin after he contracted rabies. Bryon stayed with him and nursed him until his death.





This is the inscription on the tomb of Lord Byron's dog Boswin

When some proud son of man returns to earth, Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth, The sculptur'd art exhausts the art of woe, And stoned urns record who rest below. When all is done, upon the tomb seen, Not what he was, but what he should have been; But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend; Whose heart is still his master's own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes, for him alone.

Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth, Denied Heaven the soul he held on earth; While man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven, And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven! Oh, man! thou feeble tenant of an hour, Debas'd by slavery, or corrupt by power. Who knows thee well, must quit thee with degust, Degraded mass of animated dust! Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, Thy smiles hypocrisy, they words deceit! By nature vile, ennoble but by name, Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.

Ye! who, perchance, behold this single Urn, Pass on- it none you wish to mourn: To mark a Friend's remains these stones arise, I never knew but one, and here he lies.

George Gordon, Lord Byron

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For Once I Held A Dream

By P.M. Williams



Sorrow keeps my heart encased

In tempered metal bands

The past I hold in my embrace

Let nothing sway this hand

A tempest wrought of fervent tears

That flow in tiny streams

Let memories last for all my years

Fore once I held a dream

Not time nor tide can wash away

The precious gift of you

And though I prayed for you to stay

The copyright of the article The Passing of a Friend in Words in Dogs Etc. is owned by Pat Williams. Permission to republish The Passing of a Friend in Words in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

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