My ramble ended, I returned; Beau, trotting far before, The floating wreath again discerned, I saw him, with that lily cropped, Impatient swim to meet My quick approach, and soon he dropped The treasure at my feet. Charmed with the sight, the world, I cried, Shall hear of this thy deed: My dog shall mortify the pride Of man's superior breed: But chief myself I will enjoin, To show a love as prompt as thine COWPER. THE BROOK. BROOK! whose society the Poet seeks, And whom the curious Painter doth pursue WORDSWORTH |