THE CAT 



Has it in her power again; 



Now she works with three or four, 



Like an Indian conjuror; 



Quick as he in feats of art, 



Far beyond in joy of heart. 



Were her antics play'd in the eye 



Of a thousand standers-by, 



Clapping hands with shout and stare, 



What would little Tabby care 



For the plaudits of the crowd ? 



Over happy to be proud, 



Over wealthy in the treasure 



Of her own exceeding pleasure ! 



William Wordsworth. 



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