THE CAT 



The Kitten 



Wanton droll, whose harmless play 



Beguiles the rustic's closing day, 



When, drawn the evening fire about, 



Sit aged Crone and thoughtless Lout, 



And child upon his three-foot stool, 



Waiting till his supper cool; 



And maid whose cheek outblooms the rose, 



As bright the blazing faggot glows, 



Who, bending to the friendly light, 



Plies her task with busy sleight; 



Come, shew thy tricks and sportive graces, 



Thus circled round with merry faces. 



Backward coiled, and crouching low, 

 With glaring eyeballs watch thy foe; 

 The housewife's spindle whirling round, 

 Or thread or straw, that on the ground 

 Its shadow throws, by urchin sly 

 Held out to lure thy roving eye. 

 Then, onward stealing, fiercely spring 

 Upon the futile, faithless thing. 

 Now, wheeling round with bootless skill, 

 Thy bo-peep tail provokes thee still, 

 And oft, beyond thy curving side, 

 Its jetty tip is seen to glide; 

 Till, from thy centre starting far, 

 Thou sidelong rear'st, with tail in air 

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