ROVER IN CHURCH.
’Twas a Sunday morning early in May,A beautiful, sunny, quiet day,And all the village, old and young,Had trooped to the church when the church bell rung.The windows were open, and breezes sweetFluttered the hymn books from seat to seat.Even the birds in the pale-leaved birchSang as softly as if in church!Right in the midst of the minister’s prayerThere came a knock at the door. “Who’s there,I wonder?” the gray-haired sexton thought,As his careful ear the tapping caught.Rap, rap, rap, rap—a louder sound.The boys on the back seats turned around.What could it mean? for never beforeHad anyone knocked at the old church door.Again the tapping, and now so loud,The minister paused (though his head was bowed),Rappety-rap! This will never do;The girls are peeping, and laughing too!So the sexton tripped o’er the creaking floor,Lifted the latch, and opened the door.In there trotted a big black dog,As big as a bear! With a solemn jogRight up the center aisle he pattered;People might stare—it little mattered.Straight he went to a little maid,Who blushed and hid, as though afraid,And there sat down, as if to say,“I’m sorry that I was late to-day;But better late than never, you know.Besides, I waited an hour or so,And couldn’t get them to open the doorTill I wagged my tail and bumped the floor.Now, little mistress, I’m going to stay,And hear what the minister has to say.”The poor little girl hid her face and cried!But the big dog nestled close to her side,And kissed her, dog fashion, tenderly,Wondering what the matter could be!The dog being large (and the sexton small),He sat through the sermon and heard it all,As solemn and wise as anyone there,With a very dignified, scholarly air!And instead of scolding, the minister said,As he laid his hand on the sweet child’s headAfter the service, “I never knewTwo better list’ners than Rover and you!”
’Twas a Sunday morning early in May,A beautiful, sunny, quiet day,And all the village, old and young,Had trooped to the church when the church bell rung.The windows were open, and breezes sweetFluttered the hymn books from seat to seat.Even the birds in the pale-leaved birchSang as softly as if in church!Right in the midst of the minister’s prayerThere came a knock at the door. “Who’s there,I wonder?” the gray-haired sexton thought,As his careful ear the tapping caught.Rap, rap, rap, rap—a louder sound.The boys on the back seats turned around.What could it mean? for never beforeHad anyone knocked at the old church door.Again the tapping, and now so loud,The minister paused (though his head was bowed),Rappety-rap! This will never do;The girls are peeping, and laughing too!So the sexton tripped o’er the creaking floor,Lifted the latch, and opened the door.In there trotted a big black dog,As big as a bear! With a solemn jogRight up the center aisle he pattered;People might stare—it little mattered.Straight he went to a little maid,Who blushed and hid, as though afraid,And there sat down, as if to say,“I’m sorry that I was late to-day;But better late than never, you know.Besides, I waited an hour or so,And couldn’t get them to open the doorTill I wagged my tail and bumped the floor.Now, little mistress, I’m going to stay,And hear what the minister has to say.”The poor little girl hid her face and cried!But the big dog nestled close to her side,And kissed her, dog fashion, tenderly,Wondering what the matter could be!The dog being large (and the sexton small),He sat through the sermon and heard it all,As solemn and wise as anyone there,With a very dignified, scholarly air!And instead of scolding, the minister said,As he laid his hand on the sweet child’s headAfter the service, “I never knewTwo better list’ners than Rover and you!”
’Twas a Sunday morning early in May,A beautiful, sunny, quiet day,And all the village, old and young,Had trooped to the church when the church bell rung.The windows were open, and breezes sweetFluttered the hymn books from seat to seat.Even the birds in the pale-leaved birchSang as softly as if in church!Right in the midst of the minister’s prayerThere came a knock at the door. “Who’s there,I wonder?” the gray-haired sexton thought,As his careful ear the tapping caught.Rap, rap, rap, rap—a louder sound.The boys on the back seats turned around.What could it mean? for never beforeHad anyone knocked at the old church door.Again the tapping, and now so loud,The minister paused (though his head was bowed),Rappety-rap! This will never do;The girls are peeping, and laughing too!So the sexton tripped o’er the creaking floor,Lifted the latch, and opened the door.In there trotted a big black dog,As big as a bear! With a solemn jogRight up the center aisle he pattered;People might stare—it little mattered.Straight he went to a little maid,Who blushed and hid, as though afraid,And there sat down, as if to say,“I’m sorry that I was late to-day;But better late than never, you know.Besides, I waited an hour or so,And couldn’t get them to open the doorTill I wagged my tail and bumped the floor.Now, little mistress, I’m going to stay,And hear what the minister has to say.”The poor little girl hid her face and cried!But the big dog nestled close to her side,And kissed her, dog fashion, tenderly,Wondering what the matter could be!The dog being large (and the sexton small),He sat through the sermon and heard it all,As solemn and wise as anyone there,With a very dignified, scholarly air!And instead of scolding, the minister said,As he laid his hand on the sweet child’s headAfter the service, “I never knewTwo better list’ners than Rover and you!”
’Twas a Sunday morning early in May,
A beautiful, sunny, quiet day,
And all the village, old and young,
Had trooped to the church when the church bell rung.
The windows were open, and breezes sweet
Fluttered the hymn books from seat to seat.
Even the birds in the pale-leaved birch
Sang as softly as if in church!
Right in the midst of the minister’s prayer
There came a knock at the door. “Who’s there,
I wonder?” the gray-haired sexton thought,
As his careful ear the tapping caught.
Rap, rap, rap, rap—a louder sound.
The boys on the back seats turned around.
What could it mean? for never before
Had anyone knocked at the old church door.
Again the tapping, and now so loud,
The minister paused (though his head was bowed),
Rappety-rap! This will never do;
The girls are peeping, and laughing too!
So the sexton tripped o’er the creaking floor,
Lifted the latch, and opened the door.
In there trotted a big black dog,
As big as a bear! With a solemn jog
Right up the center aisle he pattered;
People might stare—it little mattered.
Straight he went to a little maid,
Who blushed and hid, as though afraid,
And there sat down, as if to say,
“I’m sorry that I was late to-day;
But better late than never, you know.
Besides, I waited an hour or so,
And couldn’t get them to open the door
Till I wagged my tail and bumped the floor.
Now, little mistress, I’m going to stay,
And hear what the minister has to say.”
The poor little girl hid her face and cried!
But the big dog nestled close to her side,
And kissed her, dog fashion, tenderly,
Wondering what the matter could be!
The dog being large (and the sexton small),
He sat through the sermon and heard it all,
As solemn and wise as anyone there,
With a very dignified, scholarly air!
And instead of scolding, the minister said,
As he laid his hand on the sweet child’s head
After the service, “I never knew
Two better list’ners than Rover and you!”