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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

“C. K. B.” in London Spectator

To “Prowl,” My Cat

YOU are life’s true philosopher,

An epicure of air and sun,

An egoist in sable fur,

To whom all moralists are one.

You hold your race-traditions fast,—

While others toil, you simply live;

And, based upon a stable past,

Remain a sound conservative!

You see the beauty of the world

Through eyes of unalloyed content,

And in my study chair upcurled,

Move me to pensive wonderment!

I wish I knew your trick of thought,

The perfect balance of your ways;

They seem an inspiration caught

From other laws in older days.

Your padded footsteps prowl my room

Half in delight and half disdain;

You like this air of studious gloom

When streets without are cold with rain!

Some day, alas! you’ll come to die,

And I shall lose a constant friend;

You’ll take your last look at the sky,

And be a puzzle to the end!