They were just playing, lady and cat, Their sport was a marvelous sight: White hand, white paw, tit-for-tat, In the shadow of gathering night. She tried to conceal (to little avail) Beneath gloves of the finest black net A set of deadly agate-hard nails Honed sharper than razors can whet. And sweet as sugar, or so it seemed, The other tucked claws away too; But let's give the devil, as ever, his due . . . And suddenly in the boudoir, where A froth of laughter had filled the air, Four dazzling points of phosphor gleamed. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMIN' THRO' THE RYE by ROBERT BURNS NEVER TOO LATE: THE PALMER'S ODE by ROBERT GREENE TO AMERICA by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON VENUS AND ADONIS by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE LUCY (4) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE EXILE by LAWRENCE ALMA-TADEMA |