Glorious eyes that smile and burn, 

 Golden eyes, love's lustrous meed, 

 On the golden page I read. 



All your wondrous wealth of hair, 



Dark and fair, 



Silken-shaggy, soft and bright 

 As the clouds and beams of night, 

 Pays my reverent hand's caress 

 Back with friendlier gentleness. 



Dogs may fawn on all and some 



As they come; 

 You, a friend of loftier mind, 

 Answer friends alone in kind. 

 Just your foot upon my hand 



Softly bids it understand. 







Sfe This is the very perfection of sympathy, a 

 quality not too common amongst our poets 

 when they refer to cats. Gray, for instance, 

 when the pensive Selima was drowned in a 

 tub of gold-fishes, described the tragedy with 

 an elaborate facetiousness, and found in it an 

 opportunity for cold moralizing. Ever since 

 41 % the 



