Hail, beauteous lady, world renowned, And hail to this, your latest capture With Goldenrod and Roses crowned Who pads at heel with purrs of rapture. Can this sweet cat with fluffy pate In blissful thraldom to your charms Be the same beast that ramps irate Upon Great Britain's arms! 'Tis proud indeed we'll be some day, Who witnessed the incipient stages Of your triumphal march, to say, "We saw her started down the ages!" And by the way, dear, since you're quite Well headed for the Hall of Fame, Don't hold your Lion's leash too tight Lest he forget he's tame. 'Tis true he lets you cut his claws And trim his beard or curl and shave it -- And knit wool mittens for his paws, And bob his mane, or marcel-wave it, But Lions have their limits, take My friendly tip upon the quiet And don't attempt, for heaven's sake, To "pussyfoot" his diet! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DISMAL MOMENT PASSING by CLARENCE MAJOR THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT by ROBERT BURNS FRATER AVE ATQUE VALE by ALFRED TENNYSON PRAYER TO THE VIRGIN OF CHARTRES by HENRY BROOKS ADAMS LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 9. GOING TO THE FAIR by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM THE SONG OF THE ILL-BELOVED; TO PAUL LEAUTARD by GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE |