photo by John Sandel
My apologies to Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a neighbor from a nearby street
Who said: "One torn and faded doggy bed
Lies on a front porch... On it, in the sun,
Eyes closed, a sleepy visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and snore of old command,
Tell that his owner well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on this listless dog,
The hand that fed him and the heart that loved;
So I told my neighbor all about my dog:
His name is Bozymandias, Dog of Dogs,
Look on his works, ye Mighty, and despair!
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that beloved wreck, boundless and bare
The long and level street stretch's far away.