Whenever I go by there nowadays
And look at the rank weeds and the strange grass,
The torn blue curtains and the broken glass,
I seem to be afraid of the old place;
And something stiffens up and down my face,
For all the world as if I saw the ghost
Of old Ham Amory, the murdered host,
With his dead eyes turned on me all aglaze.

The Tavern has a story, but no man
Can tell us what it is. We only know
That once long after midnight, years ago,
A stranger galloped up from Tilbury Town,
Who brushed, and scared, and all but overran
That skirt-crazed reprobate, John Evereldown.

The placid Pug that paces in the Park,
Harnessed in silk and led by leathern lead,
Lives his dull life, and recks not of the Shark
In distant waters. Lapped in sloth and greed,
He fails in strenuous life to make a mark,
The placid Pug that paces in the park.

Round the slow circle of his nights and days
His life revolves in calm monotony.
Not unsusceptible to casual praise,
And mildly moved by the approach of "tea,"
No forked and jagged lightning leaps and plays
Round the slow circle of his nights and days.

He scarcely turns his round protuberant eyes,
To mark the mood of animals or men.
His joy is limited to mild surmise
When a new biscuit swims into his ken.
And when athwart his gaze a Rabbit flies,
He scarcely turns his round protuberant eyes.

And all the while the Shark in Southern seas
Pursues the paths of his pulsating quest,
Though the thermometer at fierce degrees
Might well admonish him to take a rest,
The Pug at home snores in ignoble ease.
(And all the while the Shark in Southern seas!)

If Pugs like Sharks were brought up in the sea
And forced to swim long miles to find their food,
Tutored to front the Hake's hostility,
And beard the Lobster in his dangerous mood,
Would not their lives more sane, more useful be,
If Pugs like Sharks were brought up in the sea?

The placid Pug still paces in the park,
Untouched by thoughts of all that might have been.
Undreaming that he might have "steered his bark"
Through many a stirring sight and stormy scene.
But being born a Pug and not a Shark
The placid Pug still paces in the park.