Has often stirred in me a certain dread,
As of a thing not human. Thus I sat;
Then, wondering where my little dog could be,
By whom such stillness scarce had been allowed,
I rose and whistled through the darkening wood,
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Until I heard a rustling in the brush,
And he came toward me, running at full speed,
Making a little thunder with his feet
Upon the soft-strewn ground as he approached.
Thus came he, and I took my homeward way.