Cat! who hast pass’d thy grand cliacteric,

How many mice and rats hast in thy days 
Destroy’d? - How many tit bits stolen? Gaze 
With those bright languid segments green, and prick 
Those velvet ears - but pr’ythee do not stick 
Thy latent talons in me - and upraise 
Thy gentle mew - and tell me all thy frays 
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick. 
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists - 
For all the wheezy asthma, - and for all 
Thy tail’s tip is nick’d off - and though the fists 
Of many a maid have given thee many a mail, 
Still is that fur as soft as when the lists 
In youth thou enter’dst on glass bottled wall. 

Sonnet to a Cat - John Keats