40
POEMS BY CLARA A. MERRILL
It seems the cat, in hunting, had
Caught more than she could master;
Of course old pussy never guessed
That it would cause disaster.
Caught more than she could master;
Of course old pussy never guessed
That it would cause disaster.
The mouse was in mischief, so old Puss
Had caught him in the night;
But the lady never paused to think
Whether it was wrong or right.
She knew 'twas a mouse—a horrid mouse,
And there she stood, dismayed;
What could she do, with no one near
To whom to appeal for aid?
Had caught him in the night;
But the lady never paused to think
Whether it was wrong or right.
She knew 'twas a mouse—a horrid mouse,
And there she stood, dismayed;
What could she do, with no one near
To whom to appeal for aid?
She stood for what seemed hours to her,—
(Her weapon was the broom;)
Waiting in vain for some one to come
And take her from the room.
At last she thought of a beautiful plan,
And making good her aim;
Jumped, and landed two yards the other side
Of the animal's prostrate frame!
(Her weapon was the broom;)
Waiting in vain for some one to come
And take her from the room.
At last she thought of a beautiful plan,
And making good her aim;
Jumped, and landed two yards the other side
Of the animal's prostrate frame!
A short time thence her hubby came.—
He saw the signs of storm;
And to his brawny bosom close
He drew her fainting form.
He saw the signs of storm;
And to his brawny bosom close
He drew her fainting form.
