And loudly sings thy busy purr;
As, timing well the equal sound,
Thy clutching feet bepat the ground,
And all their harmless claws disclose,
Like prickles of an early rose;
While softly from thy whisker’d cheek,
Thy half-clos’d eyes peer mild and meek.
But not alone by cottage fire
Do rustics rude thy feats admire;
The learned sage, whose thoughts explore