Cat! who hast past thy grand climacteric?
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists-
For all the wheezy asthma-and for all
Thy tail's tip is nicked off-and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft as when the lists
In youth thou enter'dst on glass bottled wall.