My Dog And I Are Both Grown Old; On These Wild Downs We Watch All Day; He Looks In My Face When The Wind Blows Cold, And Thus Methinks I Hear Him Say: The Gray Stone Circlet Is Below, The Village Smoke Is At Our Feet; We Nothing Hear But The Sailing Crow, And Wandering Flocks, That Roam And Bleat. Far Off, The Early Horseman Hies, In Shower Or Sunshine Rushing On; Yonder The Dusty Whirlwind Flies; The Distant Coach Is Seen And Gone. Though Solitude Around Is Spread, Master, Alone Thou Shalt Not Be; And When The Turf Is On Thy Head, I Only Shall Remember Thee! I Marked His Look Of Faithful Care, I Placed My Hand On His Shaggy Side; There Is A Sun That Shines Above, A Sun That Shines On Both, I Cried.