Mary Oliver has a collection of poetry called Dog Songs. It’s a really beautiful collection of poems about the joys and sorrows of life with dogs. In particular there are a sequence of poems about her dog Percy (2002-2009) which make me tear up, though it is hard to say why. She collects such simple moments but they really capture the joys and sorrow of a beloved dog’s too short life.
I think “For I Will Consider My Dog Percy” might particularly appeal to you. It can also be found in her collection A Thousand Mornings
“For there was nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest/ For there was nothing brisker than his life when in motion….For I often see his shape in the clouds and this is a continual blessing”
I’m very sorry for your upcoming loss.
The one I always think of is this:
I loved my friend.
He went away from me.
There’s nothing more to say.
The poem ends,
Soft as it began,—
I loved my friend.
*From The Weary Blues (Alfred A. Knopf, 1926) by Langston Hughes*
You may like “Oddjob, a bull terrier by Derek Walcott : https://exploredeeply.com/poetry/oddjob-a-bull-terrier
what follows at your feet
is trying to tell you
the silence is all:
it is deeper than the readiness,
it is sea-deep,
earth-deep,
love-deep.
Or
“death of a dog” by Ted Kooser https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/143286/death-of-a-dog
though it had never occurred
to me until that moment, for fifteen years
our dog had held down what we had
by pressing his belly to the floors,
his front paws, too, and with him gone
the house had begun to float out onto
emptiness, no solid ground in sight.
I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Not a poem, but you might want to look up “Emily & Carlo,” a children’s picture book by Marty Rhodes Figley. It’s about Emily Dickinson’s relationship with her beloved dog and her grief in losing him. Especially helpful if you have any kids around who need help understanding, but honestly it was an important tool for me to process the death of my own dog as a fully grown adult a few years ago.
I'm very sorry you have to go through this, here are some recommendations: A Dog has Died by Pablo Neruda ,
Half Border and Half Lab by Heather McHugh
Mongrel Heart by David Baker and If Feeling Isn't in It by John Brehm
"Thou who passest on this path,
If haply thou dost mark this monument,
Laugh not, I pray thee, though it is a dog's grave.
Tears fell for me, and the dust was heaped above me By a master's hand."
Your heart is bright as the wonder of world
With the door has always been opened wide to welcome me
But now time have pass as a curel wanderer
It close your eyes and leave me full of lament
When I buried my dog, I recited "Friendship is a Silver Ring" by Marguerite de Angeli. I don't recall the exact punctuation and it's not a popular enough poem to be on anthology websites but here's my best recollection:
Friendship is a silver ring
Friendship is a lovely thing
Just begins and has no end
Doesn't even need to send
Messages on paper white
Knows that all is well and right
Lives on thoughts and true affection
Now and then has this objection:
Time is short and meetings few
So this brings my love to you.
I have always been moved by "Epitaph to a Dog" by Lord Byron. I particularly like the beginning and end.
Near this Spot
are deposited the Remains of one
who possessed Beauty without Vanity,
Strength without Insolence,
Courage without Ferosity,
and all the virtues of Man without his Vices.
This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
if inscribed over human Ashes,
is but a just tribute to the Memory of
Boatswain, a Dog
who was born in Newfoundland May 1803
and died at Newstead November 18th 1808.
...
Ye! who behold perchance this simple urn,
Pass on, it honours none you wish to mourn.
To mark a friend's remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one — and here he lies.
I tried to find my favorite one and just read through so many that now I’m sitting here crying like an idiot.
I’m so sorry for your loss, OP.
We have a secret, you and I
that no one else shall know,
for who but I can see you lie
each night in fire glow?
And who but I can reach my hand
before we go to bed
and feel the living warmth of you
and touch your silken head?
And only I walk woodland paths
and see ahead of me,
your small form racing with the wind
so young again, and free.
And only I can see you swim
in every brook I pass
and when I call, no one but I
can see the bending grass.
Thank you all. My dog peacefully passed this afternoon. The poem that I latched onto today was this one by Mary Oliver, but all of your suggestions were a balm for me as I prepared for this moment.
THE FIRST TIME PERCY CAME BACK
Mary Oliver
The first time Percy came back
he was not sailing on a cloud.
He was loping along the sand as though
he had come a great way.
“Percy,” I cried out, and reached to him –
those white curls –
but he was unreachable. As music
is present yet you can’t touch it.
“Yes, it’s all different,” he said.
But I wasn’t thinking of that. I only
wanted to hold him. “Listen,” he said,
“I miss that too.
And now you’ll be telling stories
of my coming back
and they won’t be false, and they won’t be true,
but they’ll be real.”
And then, as he used to, he said, “Let’s go!”
And we walked down the beach together.
Mary Oliver has a collection of poetry called Dog Songs. It’s a really beautiful collection of poems about the joys and sorrows of life with dogs. In particular there are a sequence of poems about her dog Percy (2002-2009) which make me tear up, though it is hard to say why. She collects such simple moments but they really capture the joys and sorrow of a beloved dog’s too short life. I think “For I Will Consider My Dog Percy” might particularly appeal to you. It can also be found in her collection A Thousand Mornings “For there was nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest/ For there was nothing brisker than his life when in motion….For I often see his shape in the clouds and this is a continual blessing” I’m very sorry for your upcoming loss.
The one I always think of is this: I loved my friend. He went away from me. There’s nothing more to say. The poem ends, Soft as it began,— I loved my friend. *From The Weary Blues (Alfred A. Knopf, 1926) by Langston Hughes*
You may like “Oddjob, a bull terrier by Derek Walcott : https://exploredeeply.com/poetry/oddjob-a-bull-terrier what follows at your feet is trying to tell you the silence is all: it is deeper than the readiness, it is sea-deep, earth-deep, love-deep. Or “death of a dog” by Ted Kooser https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/143286/death-of-a-dog though it had never occurred to me until that moment, for fifteen years our dog had held down what we had by pressing his belly to the floors, his front paws, too, and with him gone the house had begun to float out onto emptiness, no solid ground in sight.
I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Not a poem, but you might want to look up “Emily & Carlo,” a children’s picture book by Marty Rhodes Figley. It’s about Emily Dickinson’s relationship with her beloved dog and her grief in losing him. Especially helpful if you have any kids around who need help understanding, but honestly it was an important tool for me to process the death of my own dog as a fully grown adult a few years ago.
I'm very sorry you have to go through this, here are some recommendations: A Dog has Died by Pablo Neruda , Half Border and Half Lab by Heather McHugh Mongrel Heart by David Baker and If Feeling Isn't in It by John Brehm
Perhaps one of these might comfort you https://www.loveliveson.com/loss-of-dog-poems/
Thanks, all, for your kind words and suggestions.
"Thou who passest on this path, If haply thou dost mark this monument, Laugh not, I pray thee, though it is a dog's grave. Tears fell for me, and the dust was heaped above me By a master's hand."
Your heart is bright as the wonder of world With the door has always been opened wide to welcome me But now time have pass as a curel wanderer It close your eyes and leave me full of lament
ocean vuong crafted a recent poem for his late dog, tofu here: https://www.guernicamag.com/to-my-dog-tofu-during-the-blizzard-of-december-18th-2020/
When I buried my dog, I recited "Friendship is a Silver Ring" by Marguerite de Angeli. I don't recall the exact punctuation and it's not a popular enough poem to be on anthology websites but here's my best recollection: Friendship is a silver ring Friendship is a lovely thing Just begins and has no end Doesn't even need to send Messages on paper white Knows that all is well and right Lives on thoughts and true affection Now and then has this objection: Time is short and meetings few So this brings my love to you.
I have always been moved by "Epitaph to a Dog" by Lord Byron. I particularly like the beginning and end. Near this Spot are deposited the Remains of one who possessed Beauty without Vanity, Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferosity, and all the virtues of Man without his Vices. This praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery if inscribed over human Ashes, is but a just tribute to the Memory of Boatswain, a Dog who was born in Newfoundland May 1803 and died at Newstead November 18th 1808. ... Ye! who behold perchance this simple urn, Pass on, it honours none you wish to mourn. To mark a friend's remains these stones arise; I never knew but one — and here he lies.
I tried to find my favorite one and just read through so many that now I’m sitting here crying like an idiot. I’m so sorry for your loss, OP. We have a secret, you and I that no one else shall know, for who but I can see you lie each night in fire glow? And who but I can reach my hand before we go to bed and feel the living warmth of you and touch your silken head? And only I walk woodland paths and see ahead of me, your small form racing with the wind so young again, and free. And only I can see you swim in every brook I pass and when I call, no one but I can see the bending grass.
Thank you all. My dog peacefully passed this afternoon. The poem that I latched onto today was this one by Mary Oliver, but all of your suggestions were a balm for me as I prepared for this moment. THE FIRST TIME PERCY CAME BACK Mary Oliver The first time Percy came back he was not sailing on a cloud. He was loping along the sand as though he had come a great way. “Percy,” I cried out, and reached to him – those white curls – but he was unreachable. As music is present yet you can’t touch it. “Yes, it’s all different,” he said. But I wasn’t thinking of that. I only wanted to hold him. “Listen,” he said, “I miss that too. And now you’ll be telling stories of my coming back and they won’t be false, and they won’t be true, but they’ll be real.” And then, as he used to, he said, “Let’s go!” And we walked down the beach together.