In Hans' old Mill his three black cats Watch his bins for the thieving rats. Whisker and claw, they crouch in the night, Their five eyes smouldering green and bright: Squeaks from the flour sacks, squeaks from where The cold wind stirs on the empty stair, Squeaking and scampering, everywhere. Then down they pounce, now in, now out, At whisking tail, and sniffing snout; While lean old Hans he snores away Till peep of light at break of day; Then up he climbs to his creaking mill, Out come his cats all grey with meal -- Jekkel, and Jessup, and one-eyed Jill. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE PHILOSOPHER by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE EPITAPH IN FORM OF A BALLAD by FRANCOIS VILLON THE PREACHER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THANKS BE TO GOD by JANIE ALFORD THE ARGONAUTS (ARGONATUICA): THE MOVING ROCKS by APOLLONIUS RHODIUS THE STEAM-ENGINE: CANTO 4: LORD STANHOPE'S STEAMER by T. BAKER |