... 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...
--But the Kitten, how she starts; Crouches, stretches, paws, & 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 fire!

With a tiger-leap half way, Now she meets the coming prey,
Lets it go as fast, and then, Has it in her power again:
Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian Conjuror;
Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart ...

--William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

Cats sleep fat and walk thin.

Cats, when they sleep, slump; When they walk, pull in--
And where the plump's been, there's skin.

Cats walk thin.

Cats wait in a lump. Jump in a streak.
Cats, when they jump, are sleek
As a grape slipping its skin--They have technique.
Oh, cats don't creak. They sneak.

Cats sleep fat.

They spread comfort beneath them Like a good mat,
As if they picked the place And then sat.
You walk around one As if he were the City Hall after that.

If male, A cat is apt to sing upon a major scale:
This concert is for everybody, this Is wholesale.

For a baton, he wields a tail.
(He is also found, When happy, to resound
With an enclosed and private sound.)
A cat condenses.

He pulls in his tail to go under bridges,
And himself to go under fences. Cats fit in any size box or kit;
And if a large pumpkin grew under one, He could arch over it.

When everyone else is just ready to go out,
The cat is just ready to come in.
He's not where he's been.

Cats sleep fat and walk thin.

--Rosalie Moore (B. 1910)