By A Craftsman I'm Made

'Tis but a charade,
this glow that I show.
By a craftsman I'm made;
alone and
unknown.

Sometimes I hope
for a kiss, or for bliss.
But without I still cope.
No princess,
no mistress

And so, here I stand,
still by the sill.
And gaze at the land,
a windmill,
a hill.

'Till came a day,
the sound of a hound,
it came my way.
Astounded,
I'm found

No longer dreary;
while still by this sill.
This spaniel accompanies me
I've thrill
none can kill.