Ponto in town is strictly comme il faut,
A member of the most exclusive set
(His pedigree and dwelling all may know
Who read page 90 in the "Dogs' Debrett").
His mien is dignified, his gait is slow;
If upstart strangers try to catch his eye
He kicks the dust behind with scornful toe,
Averts his lifted nose and passes by.
His friends he greets with careful etiquette,
Permits his well-poised tail-tip to vibrate,
Then treads with them the solemn minuet
That antique custom and good form dictate.
But Ponto by the sea! ah, who would know
This damp wild ragamuffin on the strand
Who importunes the passers-by to throw
Big stones across the opal-shining sand?
Ponto dishevelled, ears turned inside out,
Has suffered some sea change; his social worth
Is all forgot; he leads a Comus rout,
Tykes of the shore and curs of lowly birth.
Yelping with joy he brings his wolfish pack
About my legs, as, dripping from the sea,
I pick my way thro' shingle and wet wrack
Beleaguered by this bandit company.
But when the day comes round to leave the shore
Ponto puts off this maniac Mr. Hyde;
Becomes a Dr. Jekyll dog once more
And homeward goes serene and dignified.