Without Henry.

So much about Henry will follow us Into our everyday thoughts. The comfort of nuzzling wet muzzle, soft Wooly coat, never in moult But growing anew every season Like sheep's covering, keeping Them busy with regular clipping. Talk will be coloured with Henry's Undoubted show of pure canine love. Anyone calling he would have to approve By a wag of his 'Airdaley' tail, as He availed himself of all whom he could. Henry will from now, not be seen But be felt, deep in serene air, the green Of the farm weaving his calm untroubled Life into where he was loved As probably, no dog had been. Dilligent eyes following every last move Of the family cats, watching the tracks Left by incoming visitor's cars, by far The gentlest of dogs, encased in such Gigantic frame - - - how can Life be the same without Henry?