Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand climacteric, <br />How many mice and rats hast in thy days <br />Destroy’d? How many tit bits stolen? Gaze <br />With those bright languid segments green, and prick <br />Those velvet ears - but pr’ythee do not stick <br />Thy latent talons in me - and upraise <br />Thy gentle mew - and tell me all thy frays, <br />Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick. <br />Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists - <br />For all thy wheezy asthma - and for all <br />Thy tail’s tip is nick’d off - and though the fists <br />Of many a maid have given thee many a maul, <br />Still is that fur as soft, as when the lists <br />In youth thou enter’dest on glass bottled wall.<br /><br />John Keats<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mrs-reynolds-cat/
