Pangar, my white cat, and I Silent ply our special crafts; Hunting mice his one pursuit, Mine to shoot keen spirit shafts. Rest I love, all fame beyond, In the bond of some rare book; Yet white Pangar from his play Casts, my way, no jealous look. Thus alone within one cell Safe we dwell--not dull the tale-- Since his ever favourite sport Each to court will never fail. Now a mouse, to swell his spoils, In his toils he spears with skill; Now a meaning deeply thought I have caught with startled thrill. Now his green full-shining gaze Darts its rays against the wall; Now my feebler glances mark Through the dark bright knowledge fall. Leaping up with joyful purr, In mouse fur his sharp claw sticks, Problems difficult and dear With my spear I, too, transfix. Crossing not each other's will, Diverse still, yet still allied, Following each his own lone ends, Constant friends we here abide. Pangar, master of his art, Plays his part in pranksome youth; While, in age sedate, I clear Shadows from the sphere of Truth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONNET by DAVID HARTLEY COLERIDGE IF by EDWARD JAMES MORTIMER COLLINS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 77. AL-MUTAHALI by EDWIN ARNOLD LOVES ADVENTURE by JOSEPH BEAUMONT RHAPSODY by MATILDA BARBARA BETHAM-EDWARDS |