Emmy Lou Thinks on Kittens and Cats

Kittens are such purry things! Such little gay and furry things— So silky-soft and frail; As though they had some kind of wings They fly for balls and apron strings Or chase a spinning tail.

Their eyes are clear as amber pools Where flickering sunlight sinks and cools; They love the noon-day heat— And their pansy faces always smile When they curl up and drowse awhile On mother's window seat.

They pat my hand with velvet paws;— (You'd hardly think that they had claws Like ivory curved and strong;) And when I take them anywhere They walk out with a delicate air (Like the lass that's in the song.)

It's sad to see them turn to cats That like to hunt for mice and rats Or even bats and birds; I think some wizard makes them change With ancient magic, queer and strange And old forgotten words.

For cats have dark mysterious ways; Quite by themselves through nights and days They walk (as Kipling tells) And when they leave for here or there As still and blank a look they wear As oysters in their shells.

My brother John says cats well know That cats were sacred long ago In old King Pharaoh's land, And so they have a haughty mien, And something in their eyes of green No one can understand.

(But O! I wish they all would try To just stay kittens till they die!)