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Old Dog Tray
a poem by
Stephen Foster 


The morn of life is past, 
And ev'ning comes at last; 
It brings me a dream of a once happy day,
Of merry forms I've seen 
Upon the village green, 
Sporting with my old dog Tray.

Old dog Tray's ever faithful;
Grief cannot drive him away; 
He's gentle, he is kind, 
I'll never, never find 
A better friend than old dog Tray.

The forms I called my own
Have vanish'd one by one, 
The lov'd ones, the dear ones have all pass'd away;
Their happy smiles have flown, 
Their gentle voices gone, 
I've nothing left but old dog Tray.


When thoughts recall the past,
His eyes are on me cast, 
I know that he feels what my breaking heart would say;
Although he cannot speak, 
I'll vainly, vainly seek 
A better friend than old dog Tray.


Old Dog Tray
a poem by Stephen Foster

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