TO A LITTLE GIRL
You taught me ways of gracefulness and fashions of address, The mode of plucking pansies and the art of sowing cress, And how to handle puppies, with propitiatory pats For mother dogs, and little acts of courtesy to cats.
O connoisseur of pebbles, coloured leaves and trickling rills, Whom seasons fit as do the sheaths that wrap the daffodils, Whose eyes’ divine expectancy foretells some starry goal, You taught me here docility—and how to save my soul.
LINES WRITTEN FOR D. E.
IN A COPY OF
“THE CHILD’S GARDEN OF VERSES”
You that have fenced about my storm-swept ways With a green hedge-row of your hard-won bays And set the flints with flowers such as start Deep in the dear Child’s Garden of your heart— Take this small gift from her to whom ’tis life To be your Dearest Debtor and your Wife.
EPISTLE TO THOMAS BLACK,
CAT TO THE SOANE MUSEUM
Pardon, Dear Sir, if with intrusive pen I would remind you that we met last week; Not that you showed me any favour then Nor that I have forgot the infernal cheek You tendered to your fellow-citizen, Veiling your yellow eyes, where black and sleek You graced the hearth-rug in the glittering gloom Of Sir John Soane’s be-mirrored breakfast-room.
Which snub to soften, an official leant Hinting, behind his tactful fingers, that It was but seldom that you quite unbent Being almost a Statutory cat; If not retained by Act of Parliament (As is your noble shrine) at least you sat, Kept up by twenty shillings and tradition, As part and parcel of the exhibition.