See the kitten on the wall, sporting with the leaves that fall, Withered leaves—one—two—and three, from the lofty elder-tree! Through the calm and frosty air, of this morning bright and fair . . . —But the kitten, how she starts; Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts! First at one, and then its fellow, just as light and just as yellow; There are many now—now one—now they stop and there are none; What intenseness of desire, in her upward eye of fire! With a tiger-leap half way, now she meets the coming prey, Lets it go as fast, and then, has it in her power again: Now she works with three or four, like an Indian Conjuror; Quick as he in feats of art, far beyond in joy of heart.
This poem is in the public domain.
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