THE CAT 



Dilated swells thy glossy fur, 



And loudly sings thy busy purr, 



As, timing well the equal sound, 



Thy clutching feet bepat the ground, 



And all their harmless claws disclose, 



Like prickles of an early rose; 



While softly from thy whiskered cheek 



Thy half-closed eyes peer mild and meek. 



Whence hast thou then, thou witless Puss, 

 The magic power to charm us thus? 

 Is it, that in thy glaring eye 

 And rapid movements we descry, 

 While we at ease, secure from ill, 

 The chimney corner snugly fill, 

 A lion darting on his prey? 

 A tiger at his ruthless play? 

 Or is it that in thee we trace, 

 With all thy varied wanton grace, 

 An emblem, viewed with kindred eye, 

 Of tricksy, restless infancy? 

 Ah ! many a lightly-sportive child, 

 Who hath, like thee, our wits beguiled, 

 To dull and sober manhood grown, 

 With strange recoil our hearts disown. 

 Even so, poor kit ! must thou endure, 

 When thou becomest a cat demure, 

 Full many a cuff and angry word, 

 Chid roughly from the tempting board. 

 18 



