Poems About Cats: 8 Poems | Just the Poems

ON A FAVOURITE CAT, DROWNED IN A TUB OF GOLD FISHES

Thomas Gray

In 0 Wikipedias 3 anthologies Poet in 40 Wikipedias

'Twas on a lofty vase's sideWhere China's gayest art had dyedThe azure flowers that blow,Demurest of the tabby kindThe pensive Selima, reclined,Gazed on the lake below.

Her conscious tail her joy declared:The fair round face, the snowy beard,The velvet of her paws,Her coat that with the tortoise vies,Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes--She saw, and purr'd applause.

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Still had she gazed, but 'midst the tideTwo angel forms were seen to glide,The Genii of the stream:Their scaly armour's Tyrian hueThrough richest purple, to the viewBetray'd a golden gleam.

The hapless Nymph with wonder saw;A whisker first, and then a clawWith many an ardent wishShe stretch'd, in vain, to reach the prize--What female heart can gold despise?What cat's averse to fish?

Presumptuous maid! with looks intentAgain she stretch'd, again she bent,Nor knew the gulf between--Malignant Fate sat by and smiled--The slippery verge her feet beguiled;She tumbled headlong in!

Eight times emerging from the flood,She mew'd to every watery GodSome speedy aid to send:--No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd,Nor cruel Tom nor Susan heard--A favourite has no friend!

From hence, ye Beauties! undeceivedKnow one false step is ne'er retrieved,And be with caution bold:Not all that tempts your wandering eyesAnd heedless hearts, is lawful prize,Nor all that glisters, gold!

Source: The Golden Treasury, ed. Francis Turner Palgrave
Filed under: Named in the title

The Owl and The Pussy-Cat

Edward Lear

In 0 Wikipedias 1 anthology Poet in 52 Wikipedias

The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat;They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five-pound note.The Owl looked up to the moon above And sang to a small guitar,"O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love! What a beautiful Pussy you are,-- You are, What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl! How wonderful sweet you sing!

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Oh, let us be married,--too long we have tarried,-- But what shall we do for a ring?"They sailed away for a year and a day To the land where the Bong-tree grows,And there in a wood, a piggy-wig stood With a ring in the end of his nose,-- His nose, With a ring in the end of his nose.

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will."So they took it away, and were married next day By the turkey who lives on the hill.They dined upon mince and slices of quince Which they ate with a runcible spoon,And hand in hand on the edge of the sand They danced by the light of the moon,-- The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.

Source: Poems Teachers Ask For
Filed under: Named in the title

VERSES ON A CAT

Charles Daubeny

In 0 Wikipedias 1 anthology Poet in 1 Wikipedia

Clubby! thou surely art, I ween,A Puss of most majestic mien,So stately all thy paces!With such a philosophic airThou seek'st thy professorial chair,And so demure thy face is!

And as thou sit'st, thine eye seems fraughtWith such intensity of thoughtThat could we read it, knowledgeWould seem to breathe in every mew,And learning yet undreamt by youWho dwell in Hall or College.

Oh! when in solemn taciturnityThy brain seems wandering through eternity,What happiness were mineCould I then catch the thoughts that flow,Thoughts such as ne'er were hatched below,But in a head like thine.

Oh then, throughout the livelong day,With thee I'd sit and purr awayIn ecstasy sublime;And in thy face, as from a book,I'd drink in science at each look,Nor fear the lapse of time.

Source: The Home Book of Verse, ed. Burton Egbert Stevenson
Filed under: Named in the title

Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?

Anonymous

In 0 Wikipedias 1 anthology Poet in 0 Wikipedias

Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, where have you been?I've been to London to look at the Queen.Pussy-cat, pussy-cat, what did you there?I frightened a little mouse under the chair.

Source: The Home Book of Verse, ed. Burton Egbert Stevenson
Filed under: Named in the first line

FLUFFY, A CAT

R. C. Lehmann

In 0 Wikipedias 0 anthologies Poet in 4 Wikipedias

So now your tale of years is done,Old Fluff, my friend, and you have won,Beyond our land of mist and rain,Your way to the Elysian plain,Where through the shining hours of heatA cat may bask and lap and eat;Where goldfish glitter in the streams,And mice refresh your waking dreams,And all, in fact, is planned--and that'sIts great delight--to please the cats.

Yet sometimes, too, your placid mindWill turn to those you've left behind,

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And most to one who sheds her tears,The mistress of your later years,Who sheds her tears to summon backHer faithful cat, the white-and-black.

Fluffy, full well you understoodThe frequent joys of motherhood--To lick, from pointed tail to nape,The mewing litter into shape;To show, with pride that condescends,Your offspring to your human friends,And all our sympathy to winFor every kit tucked snugly in.

In your familiar garden groundWe've raised a tributary mound,And passing by it we reciteYour merits and your praise aright.

"Here lies," we say, "from care releasedA faithful, furry, friendly beast.Responsive to the lightest word,About these walks her purr was heard.Love she received, for much she earned,And much in kindness she returned.Wherefore her comrades go not byHer little grave without a sigh."

Source: The Vagabond and Other Poems from Punch, 1918
Filed under: Named in the title

WHAT THE CAT-MOTHER SAID

Edith Matilda Thomas

In 0 Wikipedias 0 anthologies Poet in 3 Wikipedias

We live in a cave the wild-rose bushes hide, For my kittens and I were turned out of the house.There are plenty of birds here, on every side-- And a bird I must catch, for I can't find a mouse!

Source: Children of Christmas, and Others, 1907
Filed under: Named in the title

THE TOWN CAT

Oliver Herford

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The melancholy days are come, The saddest of the year;Of houses closed and doorbells dumb And windows dark and drear.

Now Dives to his country seat Has hied himself away,And Tabby turned into the street Must shift as best she may.

No more the cushion soft as silk, The catnip ball no more;No more the saucer full of milk Behind the pantry door.

Nor shall she in the temple prey Upon the lean church mouse;The good Lord, too, has gone away And closed his city house.

When Dives hies him back once more To his town house, oh, shame!Tabby will greet him at the door, But not--no, not the same.

Source: The Laughing Willow Verses and Pictures, 1918
Filed under: Named in the title

THAT BLINKIN' CAT.

John Graham Bower

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In the Diving-room, where the O.O.D. his weary vigil keeps,Battered and scarred with years of strife behind the door she sleeps,Fighting her battles o'er again as ancient warriors may,With bristling fur as she dreams anew of many a noble fray. Savage and Silent, Swift in the onslaught As the great eagle Stoops to the victim; Guard of the Gangway, Dreadful--prolific, Mother of hundreds, Terrier-Strafer,

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Messenger-biter.Hail to the guard of the Maidstone's Gangway--Skoal!

Sing of the day the air was full of words like "Alabaster,"When she ate a piece of the Corporal's hand and bit the Quartermaster;The day she fought with an Airedale dog and drove him back to shore--For the sake of her sixty little ones, she fought--and had some more. Faithful and loyal, Guard of the Gangway, Turning the dogs back-- Yelping and howling. Biting her masters-- Corporals--any one Fiercely domestic, Easily queen of-- Pugnacious obstetrics-- Motherly War.Hail to the terror and pride of the Maidstone--Skoal!!

Sing of the day she won the fray with a new "Pandora" dog,And the Quartermaster shone with pride as he entered in the log:"At 10 P.M. we dowsed our pipes and drew the Nettle's fires,At 10.15 six births aboard--that blinkin' cat of ours!"

Source: On Patrol, 1919
Filed under: Named in the title

Century	Poems
18th	1
19th	2
20th	4

Poems About Cats