Though once a puppy, and though Fop by name,
Here moulders one whose bones some honour claim.
No sycophant, although of spaniel race,
And though no hound, a martyr to the chace--
Ye squirrels, rabbits, leverets, rejoice,
Your haunts no longer echo to his voice;
This record of his fate exulting view,
He died worn out with vain pursuit of you.
"Yes,"--the indignant shade of Fop replies--
"And worn with vain pursuit, man also dies."
Epitaph On Fop, A Dog Belonging To Lady Throckmorton
William Cowper
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Poem topics: fate, voice, claim, shade, rejoice, view, record, I love you, I miss you, pursuit, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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