Page 41 - Poetry-Animals

Grimalkin
AN ELEGY ON PETER—AGE 12

In vain the kindly call; in vain
The plate for which thou once wast fain,
At morn and noon and daylight’s wane,
O king of mousers !
No more I hear thee purr and purr,
As in the frolic days that were,
When thou didst rub thy velvet fur
Against my trousers.

How empty are the places where
Thou erst wert frankly debonair,
Nor dreamed a dream of feline care,
A capering kitten;
The sunny haunts where, grown a cat,
You pondered this, considered that,
The cushioned chair, the rug, the mat
By firelight smitten!

Although of few thou stood’st in dread,
How well thou knew’st a friendly tread,
And what upon thy back or head
The stroking hand meant!
A passing scent could keenly wake
Thy eagerness for chop or steak,
Yet, puss, how rarely didst thou break
The eighth commandment !

Though brief thy life, a little span
Of days compared with that of man,
The time allotted to thee ran
In smoother meter;
Now with the warm earth o’er thy breast,
O wisest of thy kind and best,
Forever may’st thou softly rest
In pace, Peter!

— Clinton Scollard (Century Magazine, 1893)

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