His Master's Voice

All apologies to Barraud and his beautiful painting, and indirectly also to the RCA logo. No connection to the Stanislaw Lem novel of the same name.

He heard the voice, at last, long last;
Again he heard the voice he loved
Faintly, as if from down a hall
Or from a room one floor above.

He trotted through the dust-strewn rooms
And salons of that sprawling manse
Where once his Man, his Master Dear
Had stroked his head with caring hands.

Within his fine and snowy chest
Resurged a hope that soon he'd turn
To see his long departed Man
Had to his home and hound returned.

The dog sought out with quickened steps
The refuge where they'd both retire
After a walk through frosty heath
To sit and bake before the fire.

But thrusting through the study door
He mourned to find himself alone
Amidst cob-webbed and sheet-draped chairs
And table with the gramophone.

( Read more... )