The Curate Thinks You Have No Soul – poem

church tree landscape sun

The curate thinks you have no soul;
I know that he has none. But you,
Dear friend, whose solemn self-control,
In our foursquare familiar pew,

Was pattern to my youth — whose bark
Called me in summer dawns to rove —
Have you gone down into the dark
Where none is welcome — none may love?

I will not think those good brown eyes
Have spent their life of truth so soon;
But in some canine paradise
Your wraith, I know, rebukes the moon,

And quarters every plain and hill,
Seeking his master… As for me,
This prayer at least the gods fulfill;
That when I pass the flood and see

Old Charon by the Stygian coast
Take toll of all the shades who land,
Your little, faithful, barking ghost
May leap to lick my phantom hand.

St. John Lucas

Author: Tony

I am a father, a husband and a dog owner. Like many of you, I love my pets and they are treated as family members. On saying that, if you ask my wife, the order is dogs, daughter and then me but hey, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I write about pet ownership with a slant towards pet loss. Whilst that may sound incredibly depressing to some, I want to focus more on why our pets are so important, the effect they have on our lives and the wonderful memories they create for us. I have been a qualified hypnotherapist since 1999 hence the many references to self-hypnosis as a method of dealing with the pain of pet loss. I know this works so I hope you will give it a try. Please contribute to the success of this website by commenting, liking and sharing. I know this is a community which will spread far and wide, bringing comfort and relief to the many thousands of readers who experience the heartache of pet loss.

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