pussy with the large gray eyes,

in whose orb, a cunning lies

deep as the blue in yonder skies;

thou whose back outshines the sun,

sable hairs all smoothed in one,

as if by loving hands ’twere done.

wetting thy reluctant feet,

to gain a dainty piece of meat,

knowing that stolen food is sweet.

gazing with ensnaring glance,

on the pigeon’s swift advance,

which by thy look thou dost entrance.

oh, why pause with indecision,

when the young bird before thy vision

beckons thee on to meals elysian?

[68]

hearest thou sounds beneath the floor?

say, knowest thou those sounds of yore,

and mouse than pigeon lovest thou more?

oh thou cat with many hairs,

and many lives, each life has snares,

care[1] and dogs come unawares.

bear thou many a sharpen’d claw,

often dog, with strongest paw,

from thy clutch would fain withdraw.

oh, those claws like pins shall steal,

making wounds that will not heal—

alas for those their power that feel.

and oh, those claws of thine oft dart

into the most tender part,

for a treacherous thing thou art.

p.