Cat! Who hast past thy Grand Climacteric,
How many mice and Rats hast in thy days
Destroy'd - how many tit bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green and prick
Those velvet ears - but pr'ythee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me - and upraise
Thy gentle mew - and tell me all thy frays
Of Fish and Mice, and Rats and tender chick.
Nay look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists -
For all the wheezy Asthma, -and for all
Thy tail's tip is nicked off - and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft as when the lists
In youth thou enter'dst on glass- bottled wall.

John Keats 1818