Cat Wake Up
Meow, meow, the small cat lit,
Her gaze ablaze like titian tides
When sanguine sun beyond them sets;
The light reflected in her eyes
Issues forth with heavy thought
And not with dull or graymade hue
But like some dream she long had sought
Her look, absorbed, now transmits through.
What children dance inside that light,
That countenance so tender made?
What object of such keen-dream sight
Might pierce her muddled fog, displayed?
A bit of seafood from the deep
Recesses of uneasy sleep.
