The Town Cat

The melancholy days are come, The saddest of the year; Of houses closed and doorbells dumb And windows dark and drear.

Now Dives to his country seat Has hied himself away, And Tabby turned into the street Must shift as best she may.

No more the cushion soft as silk, The catnip ball no more; No more the saucer full of milk Behind the pantry door.

Nor shall she in the temple prey Upon the lean church mouse; The good Lord, too, has gone away And closed his city house.

When Dives hies him back once more To his town house, oh, shame! Tabby will greet him at the door, But not--no, not the same.