More Poetry for Cats

[Dr. J.]

Mousing at Night
By Robert Browning’s Cat

The moon-lit fields and the small of loam;
And the soft brown soil beneath my paws;
And the startled little mice that jump
From their nest inside a leafy clump,
As I kill my prey with sharpened claws,
And pick it up and head for home.

Then a mile or so along the street
‘Til the house stands out against the sky;
A whine at the door, a quick sharp scratch,
The bright blue flash of a lighted match,
Then a muffled curse, and a strangled cry,
As I drop the corpse by slippered feet.

Dover Sole
By Matthew Arnold’s Cat

The sea smells sweet to-night,
The tide is low, the soft waves roll
Along the beach; -- on the French coast, a light
Gleams, and is gone; let’s hope some tipsy Frog
Ran down a poodle. From the tranquil bay
Comes the distant tang of fresh-caught sole!
Only, below in the waterway,
Battered prows part the wisps of fog,
Listen! You hear the deep-toned toll
Of buoy-bells which the boats’ wakes rock, and ring,
As they return and tightly clog
The little port, and then the men begin
The slow unloading of the catch, and bring
The delicious scent of supper in.

Epicurius’s cat long ago
Smelled it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind a just-deboned turbot
Unguarded in the kitchen; he
Could well have been the father of the thought
That something’s to be said for gluttony.

The smell of fish
Grows stronger still, and on the kitchen stair
A box of neat fillets sits packed with ice.
And now I clearly hear
The monger’s wagon rattling through the square,
Delivering the dinner dish
From the seafood shop down by the iron pier.
Farewell to thoughts of dreary mice!

Ah, fish, there is no fare
Quite like a flounder! They surely will not miss
A piece or two from stacks of sole like this;
I’ll steal a few, but leave the lion’s share.
Look! The lamplight on the lane is pretty;
They’re back from walking out on Dover Beach.
I think I’ll hide and spare myself the speech,
For we are in a world untouched by pity
Where ignorant humans curse the kitty.

Pawed Ugliness
By Gerard Manley Hopkins’s Cat

Damn dogs and every draggled doggy thing—
Fang-spangled spaniels with slaver-slovened flews;
Gangle-lanky Afghans, funny in the head;
Slack bassets; smug pugs; Spot, Fido, Rover, King;
Whatever buries, harries, chases, fetches, chews;
All dogs lap-, bird-, watch-, guide-, sheep-, show-, sled-;
Hocks, hackles, withers, stifles, brisket, ruff;
Loud hounds or snuffling puppies (who knows whose?)
Mangy mongrel mix, snoot-snouted purebred;
And all who boister forth to strut their mutty stuff:
Drop dead.