"The Poor Man's Friend" (1842)
Ballad.
The words by Eliza Cook, 1818-1889.
The Music
Composed & respectfully dedicated to
Mrs. Sophia Ostinelli
of Portland, Maine
by Henry Russell, 1812-1900.

New York, NY: James L. Hewitt & Co, 239 Broadway
[Source: 176/091@Levy]

1.
No sable pall, no waving plume,
No thousand torchlights to illume,
No parting glance, no struggling tear
Is seen to fall upon the bier.
There is not one of kindred clay,
To watch the coffin on its way;
No mortal form no human breast,
Cares where the poor man's bones may rest.

2.
But one deep mourner follows there,
Whose grief out lives the funeral prayer,
He does not sigh, he does not weep,
But will not leave the sadless heap.
No! he who was the poor man's mate,
And made him more content with fate,
The old grey dog that shared his crust,
Is all that stands beside his dust.

3.
He bends his liste-ning head as though
He thought to hear a voice below,
He plans to miss that voice so kind,
And wonders why he's left behind.
The sun goes down, the night is come.
He needs no food, he seeks no home
But stretched upon the dreamless bed,
With doleful howl calls back the dead.

4.
The passing gaze may coldly dwell
On all that polished marches tell,
For temples built on churchyard earth
Are claimed by riches more than worth
But who would mark with undimm'd eyes
The mourning dog that starves and dies,
Who would not ask, who would not crave,
Such love and faith to guard his grave.