The Game

Watching a ball on the end of a string,
    Watching it swing back and to,
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing
    Ever a Kitten can do.

First it goes this way, then it goes that,
    Just like a bird on the wing.
And all of a tremble I crouch on the mat
    Like a Lion, preparing to spring.

And now with a terrible deafening mew,
    Like a Tiger I leap on my prey,
And just when I think I have torn it in two
    It is up in the air and away.

Oliver Herford

Oliver Herford was born in England on December 2, 1860. He was a British-born American writer, artist, and illustrator, often referred to as 'The American Oscar Wilde' for his sharp wit and humorous works. Herford authored and illustrated many books for children and adults, contributing to magazines such as "The Criterion", "Life", and "Punch". He died on July 5, 1935, in France.

Oliver Herford

The Cockatrice

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

To The Publisher

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

The Cat.

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

The Pig-Pen.

Oliver Herford, Simple Poetry

English

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Education

When People think that Kittens play,
    It's really quite the other way.
For when they chase the Ball or Bobbin
    They learn to catch a Mouse or Robin.

The Kitten, deaf to Duty's call,
    Who will not chase the bounding ball,
A hungry Cathood will enjoy,
    The scorn of Mouse and Bird and Boy.

Oliver Herford

A Kitten's Fancy

The Kitten mews outside the Door,
    The Cat-bird in the Tree,
The Sea-mew mews upon the Shore,
    The Catfish in the Sea.

The Emu with his feathers queer
    Is mewing in the Zoo.
Why is it that I never hear
    A Pussy-willow mew?

Oliver Herford

The Puncture

When I was just a Kitten small,
    They gave to me a Rubber Ball
To roll upon the floor.
    One day I tapped it with my paw
And pierced the rubber with my claw;
    Now it will roll no more.

Oliver Herford

Foreign Kittens

Kittens large and Kittens small,
Prowling on the Back Yard Wall,
Though your fur be rough and few,
I should like to play with you.
Though you roam the dangerous street,
And have curious things to eat,
Though you sleep in barn or loft,
With no cushions warm and soft,
Though you have to stay out-doors
When it's cold or when it pours,
Though your fur is all askew--
How I'd like to play with you!

Oliver Herford

The Kitten And Falling Leaves

That way look, my Infant, lo!
What a pretty baby-show!
See the kitten on the wall,
Sporting with the leaves that fall,
Withered leaves, one, two, and three
From the lofty elder-tree!
Through the calm and frosty air
Of this morning bright and fair,
Eddying round and round they sink
Softly, slowly: one might think,
From the motions that are made,
Every little leaf conveyed
Sylph or Faery hither tending,
To this lower world descending,
Each invisible and mute,
In his wavering parachute.
But the Kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts!
First at one, and then its fellow
Just as light and just as yellow;
There are many now, now one
Now they stop and there are none
What intenseness of desire
In her upward eye of...

William Wordsworth

The Shadow Kitten

There's a funny little kitten that tries to look like me,
    But though I'm round and fluffy, he's as flat as flat can be;
And when I try to mew to him he never makes a sound,
    And when I jump into the air he never leaves the ground.

He has a way of growing, I don't understand at all.
    Sometimes he's very little and sometimes he's very tall.
And once when in the garden when the sun came up at dawn
    He grew so big I think he stretched half-way across the lawn.

Oliver Herford