gentle annie dog poem
Looking at Life By ERICH BRANDKIS Some time ago, I wrote about my. liltJe dog Deuce, when he was i3O sick and wasn't expected to live. • . Hundreds of 'letters came in in- 'quiving about him and asking how •;h'e was getting- along. .-As' I told you, Deuce 'is home again and I hope he will be with • us quite a few more years. (By the way, that sickness of h'is left him with an appetite that's nobody's business. He's eating ius out of house and home.) Of all the letters that came in, I he one that touched my wife <ind me tho most was one from Wallace' Wallace' Hr. Smith of Glendale, West Virginia, who loyt his little Scot- tic' "Gentle Annie." When she died a little while ago, he wrote this poem, which he sent to me, GENTLE ANNIE (1933-1943) The house is so strangely silent Since Annie has gone away— The night is ud. long and lonely, And long and slill is the day. She- was small and. dark and winsome, winsome, With her grave and solemn eyes— I forget, and call for Annie Bui never a sound replies. At night, during mon Uvs of illness, When slumber and- rest had fled, The better to hear and be near me She would lie by the side of my bed. I talked to her in the darkness; I know she could understand: I told her that Life was bitter, And she gcnlly touched my hand. I though I. that I heard the patter Of her feet upon the stair—• It miust have been but a fancy For no one is coming there. She sleeps tonight 'neath the lilac, Close beside the Scotlish pine: I know that she sleeps more soundly Than I, in this bed of mine, My friends all think it is foolish Thai, tears from my eyelids start, But I sigh in the night for Annie, Little Scot with the loving heart! I know that many, will argue That only man is divine, But I like to think of the morning morning Her voice may answer mine! Somehow I know, Mr. Smith, l.hat Gentle Annie will be there to greet you when your time come*?.