Classic Poem

I was not useful? So
He says, nor young nor strong.
My master ought to know,
I've followed him so long.

For many and many a day
I followed well content,
Might I but go the way
That he, my master, went.

I listened for his foot,
I strove his thought to scan;
For I was but a brute,
And he I loved was man.

O'er all that he held dear,
A patient watch to keep,
With light, attentive ear
I listened in my sleep.

The stealthy foot withdrew,
The daring hand was stayed;
My growl the robber knew,
And fled the spot dismayed.

I knew my master's voice,
My nature's bounded plan
Had left my love no choice,
And he I loved was man.

And often would I watch
His inmost thought to prove,
His hidden will to catch:
A brute can only love.

I waited for a crumb,
From off his daily meal
To fall for me: a dumb
Poor brute can only feel.

I thought he loved me well,
But when my eye grew dim—
I leave the tale I tell
As it is told by him—

Some secret hint to track
Of life's poor trembling flame,
He nailed me to a rack,
He pierced and tore my frame.

He saw me slowly die
In agonies acute:
For he was man, and I
Was nothing but a brute!