Classic Poem

As Tabby and Tibby were playing one day,
I, watching their frolicksome mood,
Greatly wondered they never got tired of play,
But the secret I soon understood.

For, listening, I hear on the drum of the ear,
These thoughts in cat language conveyed-
The which I interpret lest it should appear
Of telling the truth I'm afraid.

Said Tabby to Tibby: 'Our master's downcast;
Else why are his looks full of gloom?
There's something like spectres in future or past,
Which strangely before his mind loom.

'So, daughter, still further in frolic indulge,
And thus chase his sadness away;
Our motives we need not to mortals divulge;
Then at it in right earnest play.'

This said, she gave Tibby a sly, knowing wink,
And straight on her haunches sat down,
While Tibby, who is of all kittens the pink,
Laid the counsel safe by in her crown.

And now, as if struck by electrical shock,
The young one swift bounded aside,
And then with an air which would true valor mock,
Some strange soldiers' antics she tried.

Advancing, retreating, with rig well upreared,
Her looks testify to her ire;
And every manoeuvre, it is to be feared,
Will bring some calamity dire.

But meantime, the mother in calmest content,
And careless as cat could well be,
Just waited till Tibby's flash-valor was spent,
Yet now and then winking at me.

I judged from this fact that a wrinkle had struck,
To the depths of her sage cat-like brain;
And I thought of my beautiful kitten's ill-luck
In entering on such a campaign.

The thought had scarce flashed through the chambers of mind,
When she pounced like a tiger on prey!
Oh, horror! but stop! with relief I now find
They both were engaged in mere play.

But whether in play or real earnest, it seems
Young Tibby's no match for her mother;
So thus I now end this my first of cat dreams,
Not caring to write such another.