Looks happy, and the tabby-cat of the house
Forgets the elusive, but recurrent mouse
And purrs and dreams;
And in his corner the black-beetle seems
A plumed Black Prince arrayed in gleaming mail;
Whereat the shrinking scullery-maid grows pale,
And flies for succour to THOMAS of the calves,
Who, doing nought by halves,
Circles a gallant arm about her waist,
And takes unflinching the cheek-slap of the chaste