THE Pug sat up on the
cabinet
With his short nose in
the air;
He was only a pug of
porcelain
With goggle eyes and a
stare.
His legs were short
with a strong incline
To be bandy at the
knees,
But he wore the lofty
air of a pug
Who took the world at
his ease
And that Porcelain Pug
on the cabinet had a look which your soul might freeze.
He looked to neither
the right nor left,
That being his scornful
way,
But his goggle eyes
were never closed
Either by night or day.
And what he saw, he
saw, 'twas said,
And what he knew, he
knew,
And what he might have
said if he chose
Might please neither me
nor you,
For that Porcelain Pug
on the cabinet had an eye to pierce you through.
His mistress -- (and he
often gave
A porcelain sniff at
that,
As on his Chinese
pedestal
Unflinchingly he sat)
--
His mistress he'd known
far too long
To be the least
deceived
By the tricks and airs
and graces
In which some folks
believed,
For he could have told
-- that Porcelain Pug -- what their spirits might have grieved.
And he knew stern duty
called on him,
With his bandy legs and
stare,
To lead her in the path
of Right,
And try to keep her
there.
Which was quite as much
as any one
From a porcelain pug
could ask,
And, if the simple
truth were told,
Was rather a thankless
task.
"Don't ogle
me," said the Porcelain Pug. "I could your tricks unmask."
He was neither moved by
smiles nor tears,
And he did not care a
rush,
When she dropped her
eyes with gentle sighs
And even got up a
blush.
"Let those take
that who like," he said,
"It doesn't work
with me."
Which was really
disappointing,
Besides being bold and
free,
But that Porcelain Pug
on the cabinet had no sentiment -- not he.
And when she appeared
most sweetly meek
And innocent of guile,
And wore a simple
artless gown
And a soft engaging
smile,
He glared with both his
goggle eyes
And his bandy legs
outspread,
And sniffed his
fiercest porcelain sniff,
Though never a word he
said,
And before that Pug on
the cabinet her air ingenuous fled.
For his glance
insinuated that
She was not so wise or
fair
As she would have the
world believe,
Which was a statement
bare,
And one to which she
did object,
Although she felt it
true,
And loathed that Pug on
the cabinet,
In that so much he
knew,
And what was worse,
that he did insist that he knew she knew it too.
And many a silent tiff
they had,
While he held aloft his
head;
"Leave me
alone," said she to him.
"Behave
yourself," he said.
And when, her best
effects prepared,
She tried her nicest
scenes,
This porcelain scorn
seemed erst to say
"Tell that to the
Marines" --
If a Porcelain Pug on a
cabinet looks only what he means.
"I'm mistress
here," she would oft remark;
But, his short nose in
the air,
The sole response he
deigned to give
Was his usual goggle
stare.
And when she strove to
jeer him down
And pretended she did
not care
That he'd found her out
with her flimsy ways,
And had bid the world
beware,
"Pooh, you're only
a Porcelain Pug," she said, "with goggle eyes and a stare."
But in the midst of her
flippant scoff,
She'd falter 'neath his
gaze,
And now and then -- at
intervals --
Resolved to mend her
ways.
But why she should care
for a staring pug,
Short-nosed,
short-legged, and fat,
Is a problem the
solution
Of which one can't get
at,
And as to a guilty
conscience -- what have pugs to do with that --
Even the sharpest
Porcelain Pug that e'er on a cabinet sat?