Midwife Cat

Beyond the fence she hesitates, 

     And drops a paw, and tries the dust. 

It is a clearing—but she waits

      No longer minute than she must.

Though a dozen foes may dart

      From out the grass, she crouches by;

Then runs to where the silos start

      To heave their shadows far and high. 

Here she folds herself and sleeps;

      But in a moment she has put

The dream aside; and now she creeps

      Across the open, foot by foot,

Till at the threshold of a shed

      She smells the water and the corn

Where a sow is on her bed

      And little pigs are being born.

Silently she leaps, and walks

      All night upon a narrow rafter;

Whence at intervals she talks

      Wise to them she watches after.