Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895
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Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895.  1895.
 
The Nor’-West Courier
 
John E. Logan (b. 1852)
 
 
UP, my dogs, merrily,
  The morn sun is shining,
    Our path is uncertain,
    And night’s sombre curtain
May drop on us, verily,        5
  Ere time for reclining;
  So, up, without whining,
You rascals, instanter,
  Come into your places
  There, stretch out your traces,        10
And off, at a canter.
 
Up, my dogs, cheerily,
  The noon sun is glowing;
    Fast and still faster,
    Come, follow your master;        15
Or to-night we may wearily,
Tired and drearily,
  Travel, not knowing
  What moment disaster
May sweep in the storm-blast,        20
And over each form cast
  A shroud in its blowing.
 
On, my dogs, steadily,
  Though keen winds are shifting
  The snowflakes, and drifting        25
    Them straight in your faces;
Come, answer me readily,
Not wildly nor headily,
  Plunging and lifting
    Your feet, keep your paces;        30
For yet we shall weather
The blizzard together,
    Though evil our case is.
 
Sleep, my dogs, cosily,
  Coiled near the fire,        35
  That higher and higher
Sheds its light rosily
Out o’er the snow and sky;
    Sleep in the ruddy glow,
    Letting Keewaydin blow        40
  Fierce in his ire.
Sleep, my dogs, soundly;
For to-morrow we roundly
    Must buffet the foe.
 

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