Brave Beocat, brood-kit of Ecgthmeow, Hearth-pet of Hrothgar in whose high halls He mauled without mercy many fat mice, Night did not find napping nor snack-feasting. The wary war-cat, whiskered paw-wielder, Bearer of the burnished neck-belt, gold-braided collar band, Feller of fleas fatal, too, to ticks, The work of wonder-smiths, woven with witches' charms, Sat on the throne-seat his ears like sword points Upraised, sharp-tipped, listening for peril-sounds, When he heard from the moor-hill howls of the hell-hound, Gruesome hunger-grunts of Grendel's Great Dane, Deadly doom-mutt, dread demon dog. The boasted Beocat, noble battle kitten, Bane of barrow-bunnies, bold seeker of nest-booty: "If hand of man unhasped the heavy hall-door And freed me to frolic forth to fight the fang-bearing fiend, I would lay the whelpling low with lethal claw-blows; Fur would fly and the foe would taste death-food. But resounding snooze-noise, stern slumber-thunder, Nose-music of men snoring mead-hammered in the wine-hall, Fills me with sorrow-feeling for Fate does not see fit To send some fingered folk to lift the firm-fastened latch That I might go grapple with the grim ghoul-pooch." Thus spoke the mouse-shredder, hunter of hall-pests, Short-haired Hrodent-slayer, greatest of pussy-Geats.
A Cat there was, a gentil tailles Manx Our Hoste hadde seen astray on Thames banks And taken home to ridden him of rats, At whiche she preved to been the beste of cats. He longed to bringe on pilgrimage his pette, But Puss bigan to fussen and to frette When that she sawgh the leathern hond-luggage In whiche she was yschlept on viage; She thinketh that no Canterbury mous Be worth an expditioun from hir hous, And so she took hir leave of us apace And crept into a secret hiding-place, And when the folk the pavement gan to pounde, This Pussie-Cat was nowhere to be founde, And she was leften in the hostelrye To keepen all the rodentes compaignye; And that is how this Cat withouten tail Became as wel a Cat withouten tale.
Vet, be not proud, though thou canst make cats die Thou livest but one life, while we live nine, And if our lives were half as bleak as thine, We would not seek from thy cold grasp to fly. We do not slave our daily bread to buy; Our eyes are blind to gold and silver's shine; We owe no debt, we pay no tax or fine; We tremble not when creditors draw nigh. The sickest animal that thou dost treat Is weller than a man; in peace we dwell And know not guilt or sin, and fear not hell: Poor vet, we live in heaven at thy feet. But do not think that any cat will weep When thee a Higher Vet doth put to sleep.
Get ye a human while ye may, When you are still a kitten, For by a cat too long a stray Men's hearts are seldom smitten. The master of yon cozy house May wed a maid with puppies; Or set a trap to catch a mouse, Or buy a bowl of guppies. Cold rains will soon the summer drown, And ice will crack the willow; And though the snow is soft as down, It makes a chilly pillow. Then hands that would have stroked your head, When you came in from prowling, Will hurl at you a boot instead To halt your awful howling.
so much depends upon
a yellow gold fish
washed down with bowl water
inside the white
kitten.
Other contributors to "Poetry for Cats":
John Milton's Cat ("The Prologue" to "Territory Lost")
William Blake's Cat ("Mongrel! Mongrel! Barking blight")
Samuel Taylor Coleridge's Cat ("Kubla Kat")
Edgar Allen Poe's Cat ("The End of the Raven")
Walt Whitman's Cat ("Meow of Myself," from "Leaves of Catnip")
Emily Dickinson's Cat ("There is no Cat-toy like a Mouse")
Joyce Kilmer's Cat ("Treed")
Dylan Thomas's Cat ("Do Not Go Peaceable to That Damn Vet")
Allen Ginsberg's Cat ("Meowl")
... and many more.