Gulliver's gone
To the final command of his master;
His watery eyes had washed
All the hills with his laughter;
And the seasons can change
All the light from the grey to the dim,
But the light in his eyes
Will see no more so bright
As the sheep
That he locked in the pen.
There's four feet of ground
In front of the barn
That's sun-baked and rain-soaked
And part of the farm;
But now it lies empty,
So cold and so bare,
Gulliver's gone
But his memory lies there.
By passing the doors of his life
Was a stage I remember,
And in later years
He would cease to bare teeth to a stranger;
For sentiment touched him,
As cyclamen holds him,
And later men came from the town,
Who said, 'Clear the child
This won't take a while,'
And Gulliver's gone with the dawn.