(TUPPER)
Soft little beasts, how pleasantly ye lie
Snuggling and snoozling by your purring sire,
Mother I mean (but sonnet-rhymes require
A shorter word, and boldly I defy
Those who would tie the bard by pedant rule).
O kittens, you're not thinking, I'll be bound,
How three of you had yesterday been drowned
But that my little boy came home from school,
And begged your lives, though Cook remonstrance made,