Sonnet for a Beggar

Pup who begs from the tile-covered floor,
Does food exist which thou do not desire?
And which, upon receipt, you beg no more,
Do not your tiny lusts ever expire?
And to thee, I compare thy fellow creature,
That feline who, when sustenance desires,
Mews until heard on the highest bleacher,
So someone, for her, sustenance acquires.
But you sit staring, silent as the stars,
Save when a whine doth slither from thy jowls,
Discontent to admire from afar,
That which, within the den, inspir’d howls.
Ah, man’s best friend, tis far too low a price;
To bind thy soul with fallen grains of rice.