“FOUR-PAWS” IN LONDON
Four-paws, we know the sun is white
At dawn in Hampshire when the night
Deserts those frozen miles,
When robin creaks from wintry bush
And early milk-boy’s breeches brush
The hoar-frost from the stiles;
Yet shall you never hear him more
Insistent at our cottage door
Nor of his spoils partake,
Alas, poor puss who stir and yawn
Uneasy in the London dawn
And, in a flat, awake.
Four-paws, forgive us! When apprised
Of our departure you devised,
No doubt, some darling plan
Of exodus that should surpass
His who removed last Michaelmas—
Your friend the dairy-man:—
A mightier waggon on the road
You pictured and so vast a load
That all should turn and look,—
Betsey precarious on the shaft,
Master and Mistress fore and aft,
The carter and the cook,
Nurse, with her knitting, in mid-air,
Carpets in bales, your favourite chair
And (the progressive path
With added glory to invest)
Our Four-paws couchant on the crest
Of an inverted bath.
Alas, what difference disgraced
Our flight! An obscure van replaced
The customary wain;
And you, with many a mournful cry,
Fettered by Betsey in the fly
And hampered in the train.
And now you’re here. Well, it may be
The sun does rise in Battersea
Although to-day be dark,
Life is not shorn of loves and hates
While there are sparrows on the slates
And keepers in the Park: