If I had known what trouble you were bearing;What griefs were in the silence of your face;I would have been more gentle, and more caring,And tried to give you gladness for a space.I would have brought more warmth into the place,If I had known.If I had known what thoughts despairing drew you;(Why do we never try to understand?)I would have lent a little friendship to you,And slipped my hand within your hand,And made your stay more pleasant in the land,If I had known.

We are made wholeBy books, as by great spaces and the stars

A good dog never dies. He always stays. He walks besides you on crisp autumn days when frost is on the fields and winter's drawing near. His head is within our hand in his old way.