“The End of the Raven"On a night quite unenchanting, when the rain was downward slantingI awakened to the ranting of the man I catch mice for.Tipsy and a bit unshaven, in a tone I found quite craven,Poe was talking to a Raven perched above the chamber door.'Raven's very tasty,' thought I, as I tiptoed o'er the floor.'There is nothing I like more.'[...]Still the Raven never fluttered, standing stock-still as he utteredIn a voice that shrieked and sputtered, his two cents' worth -- 'Nevermore.'While this dirge the birdbrain kept up, oh, so silently I crept up,Then I crouched and quickly leapt up, pouncing on the feathered bore.Soon he was a heap of plumage, and a little blood and gore --Only this and not much more.”

“From CATS ARE KIND"I saw a dog pursuing automobiles;On and on he sped.I was puzzled by this;I accosted the dog.'If you catch one,' I said'What will you do with it?''Dumb cat,' he cried,And ran on.”

“Behold the day-break!I awaken you by sitting on your chest and purring in your face,I stir you with muscular paw-prods, I rouse you with toe-bites,Walt, you have slept enough, why don't you get up?"(From Meow of Myself, from LEAVES OF CATNIP)”

“Abyssinias"I met a traveler from an antique landWho said: A huge four-footed limestone formSits in the desert, sinking in the sand.Its whiskered face, though marred by wind and storm,Still flaunts the dainty ears, the collar bandAnd feline traits the sculptor well portrayed:The bearing of a born aristocrat,The stubborn will no mortal can dissuade.And on its base, in long-dead alphabets,These words are set: "Reward for missing cat!His name is Abyssinias, pet of pets;I, Ozymandias, will a fortune payFor his return. he heard me speak of vets --O foolish King! And so he ran away.”

“The noisy jay swoops by and reviles me, he complains of my meow and my malingering.I too am not a bit subdued, I too am uncontrollable,I sound my splenetic yowl over the roof of the house."(From Meow of Myself, from LEAVES OF CATNIP)”

“And indeed there will be timeTo wonder, 'Do I shed?' and, 'Do I shed?'Time to turn back and stretch out on the bed,And give myself a bath before I'm fed --(They will say: 'It's the short-haired ones I prefer.')My flea collar buckled neatly in my fur,My expression cool and distant but softened by a gentle purr --(They will say: 'I'm allergic to his fur!')Do I dareJump up on the table?In an instant there is timeFor excursions and inversions that will make me seem unstable."(From The Love Song of J. Morris Housecat)”

“And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door; And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming, And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor:And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor Shall be lifted — nevermore!”