They were just playing, lady and cat, Their sport was a marvelous sight: White hand, white paw, tit-for-tat, In the shadow of gathering night. She tried to conceal (to little avail) Beneath gloves of the finest black net A set of deadly agate-hard nails Honed sharper than razors can whet. And sweet as sugar, or so it seemed, The other tucked claws away too; But let's give the devil, as ever, his due . . . And suddenly in the boudoir, where A froth of laughter had filled the air, Four dazzling points of phosphor gleamed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HAWORTH CHURCHYARD by MATTHEW ARNOLD GO SLEEP, MA HONEY by EDWARD D. BARKER THYESTES, ACT 2: CHORUS by LUCIUS ANNAEUS SENECA FOOTLIGHT MOTIFS: 2. PHOEBE FOSTER by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS THE FLIGHT OF THE GODDESS by CELIA THAXTER THE YELLOW BADGE by RUTH SCHECHTER ALEXANDER |