Cats

There was a young lady whose dream
Was to feed a black cat on whipt cream,
    But the cat with a bound
    Spilt the milk on the ground,
So she fed a whipt cat on black cream.

Unknown

The identity of this poet is not known. Their works, which are often of significant historical or cultural value, have been attributed to 'Unknown'. This designation is commonly used when the creator of works, ranging from ancient texts to more modern writings, remains anonymous or uncredited. Despite the lack of personal details, the impact and importance of these works endure, offering insight into the eras and cultures from which they originated.

Unknown

Nursery Rhyme. DLXIV. Natural History.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CXCIX. Riddles.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCLXXXIX. Lullabies.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

Nursery Rhyme. CCCXXXIV. Games.

Unknown , Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Milk For The Cat

When the tea is brought at five o'clock,
And all the neat curtains are drawn with care,
The little black cat with bright green eyes
Is suddenly purring there.

At first she pretends, having nothing to do,
She has come in merely to blink by the grate,
But, though tea may be late or the milk may be sour,
She is never late.

And presently her agate eyes
Take a soft large milky haze,
And her independent casual glance
Becomes a stiff, hard gaze.

Then she stamps her claws or lifts her ears,
Or twists her tail and begins to stir,
Till suddenly all her lithe body becomes
One breathing, trembling purr.

The children eat and wriggle and laugh,
The two old ladies stroke their silk:
But the cat is grown small and thin with desire,
Trans...

Harold Monro

Cats

There once were two cats in Kilkenny,
And each cat thought that there was one cat too many,
And they scratched and they fit and they tore and they bit,
'Til instead of two cats - there weren't any.

Unknown

Blunders

There was a young man from the city,
Who met what he thought was a kitty;
    He gave it a pat,
    And said, "Nice little cat!"
And they buried his clothes out of pity.

Unknown

The Cats Have Come To Tea.

What did she see oh, what did she see,
As she stood leaning against the tree?
Why all the Cats had come to tea.

What a fine turn out from round about,
All the houses had let them out,
And here they were with scamper and shout.

"Mew mew mew!" was all they could say,
And, "We hope we find you well to-day."

Oh, what should she do oh, what should she do?
What a lot of milk they would get through;
For here they were with "Mew mew mew!"

She didn't know oh, she didn't know,
If bread and butter they'd like or no;
They might want little mice, oh! oh! oh!

Dear me oh, dear me,
All the cats had come to tea.

Kate Greenaway

The Mysterious Cat

A chant for a children's pantomime dance, suggested by a picture painted by George Mather Richards.


    I saw a proud, mysterious cat,
    I saw a proud, mysterious cat
    Too proud to catch a mouse or rat -
    Mew, mew, mew.

    But catnip she would eat, and purr,
    But catnip she would eat, and purr.
    And goldfish she did much prefer -
    Mew, mew, mew.

    I saw a cat - 'twas but a dream,
    I saw a cat - 'twas but a dream
    Who scorned the slave that brought her cream -
    Mew, mew, mew.

    Unless the slave were dressed in style,
    Unless the slave were dressed in style
    And knelt before her all the while -
    Mew, mew, mew.

    Did you ever hear of a thing like that?
    Did you ever hear of...

Vachel Lindsay

Categorical Courtship

I sat one night beside a blue-eyed girl,
    The fire was out, and so, too, was her mother;
A feeble flame around the lamp did curl,
    Making faint shadows, blending in each other:
'Twas nearly twelve o'clock, too, in November;
She had a shawl on, also, I remember.

Well, I had been to see her every night
    For thirteen days, and had a sneaking notion
To pop the question, thinking all was right,
    And once or twice had make an awkward motion
To take her hand, and stammer'd, cough'd, and stutter'd,
But, somehow, nothing to the point had utter'd.

I thought this chance too good now to be lost;
    I hitched my chair up pretty close beside her,
Drew a long breath, and then my legs I cross'd,
    Bent over, sighed, and for five minutes eyed her:
Sh...

Unknown