Oh, pudgy porcelain puppy dog from far-away Japan,
I saw you in a shop to-day where lonesomely you sat
Upon a velvet cushion that was colored gold and purple,
Between a bowl of goldfish, and a sleeping wooden cat.
I wonder what you thought about as stolidly you sat there,
A grin of faint derision on your pudgy porcelain face;
I wonder if you dreamed about some cherry blossom tea house,
And if the goldfish bored you in their painted Chinese case?
I wonder if you dreamed about the laughter of the geishas
As languidly they danced across the shining lacquered floor,
I wonder if your thoughts were with a purple clump of iris
That bloomed, all through the summer, by the little tea house door?
I wonder if you hated us who passed, you by unheeding,
You who had known the temples of another, older land?
And, oh, I wonder if you knew when I had paused beside you
To pat you, porcelain puppy dog, that I could understand?
Margaret E. Sangster