Joe

by Minnie Erwin

(The following poem was submitted by Stanley Blake of Berry. Joe a beagle hound was raised by Blake's Blue Grass Farm Kennels, which went out of business recently. Joe was sold to an E.F.Tully of Southbridge, Mass. One February day, Mr. Tully went hunting with "Joe". When he failed to return after two days, a party was sent out to hunt for him. They found him frozen in the snow, and over his body, standing guard, was "Joe", stiff with cold and well-nigh exhausted. ed)

From an old-yellowed newspaper clipping. The photograph above is of my father on his death bed with his dog Rowdy. After my father's death on March 12th of last year, Rowdy was given to a friend of my sister, an older gentleman who has a farm, of which we are told, Rowdy is quite happy.

No soldier with a sword and plume
No famous man was he,
But just a simple beagle hound
Of common pedigree.
Yet in the books the angels keep
Of noble deeds, I know,
There is a broad and unblotted page,
That bears the name of "Joe".
His master to the wintry woods
Went forth to hunt one day
The wine of life was in his veins,
His heart was light and gay.
New rabbit tracks in plenty
Crossed his pathway to and fro;
His gun was ready in his hands
And at his side was "Joe."
But death was lurking
In the depth of dell and dingy dark;
His aim is always straight
and sure.
The hunter was his mark.
Above his master's silent
shape
Fast stiffening in the snow,
The faithful beagle mounted
guard-
Devoted, patient "Joe".
All day the bitter cold prevailed,
The sentinel of the dead.
All night the stormy weather
beat
Upon his drooping head.
The hoar frost gathered on
his coat.
His freezing blood ran slow,
But still he kept his lonely
watch-
Poor, loyal, loving "Joe".
Three times around the clock
The hour had marched before,
was found
The hunter in his frozen
sleep
Beside the dying hound.
And tears from eyes that
never wept,
Unchecked, were seen to flow.
And fall in pity's gentle dew
Upon the form of "Joe".
Among the heroes that have
died
At duty's post enrolled,
This comrade, constant to the
end,
This dog that had a soul.
And when beyond the mystic
gates
Of life and death we go,
God grant us all as true a
friend
To mourn for us as "Joe".