WHILE he is mark'd by vision clear <br />Who fathoms Nature's treasures, <br />The man may follow, void of fear, <br />Who her proportions measures. <br />Though for one mortal, it is true, <br />These trades may both be fitted, <br />Yet, that the things themselves are two <br />Must always be admitted. <br />Once on a time there lived a cook <br />Whose skill was past disputing, <br />Who in his head a fancy took <br />To try his luck at shooting. <br />So, gun in hand, he sought a spot <br />Where stores of game were breeding, <br />And there ere long a cat he shot <br />That on young birds was feeding. <br />This cat he fancied was a hare, <br />Forming a judgment hasty, <br />So served it up for people's fare, <br />Well-spiced and in a pasty. <br />Yet many a guest with wrath was fill'd <br />(All who had noses tender): <br />The cat that's by the sportsman kill'd <br />No cook a hare can render.<br /><br />Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cat-pie/
