Poems (Elliott)/Beauty
For works with similar titles, see Beauty.
Beauty
Underneath my throne my kitty, Eats his bread and peanut-butter,And I think 'tis such a pity That his thoughts he cannot utter.
Beauty is his name, and beauty Is he too, by name and nature, For his only thought is duty, Regardless of all nomenclature.
Mice and rabbits (Welsh and other), Is he very fond of eating,He of little birds and mother, Partakes too, e'en though with beating.
Yet we love him, nor can help it, Little comrade, friend, and brother,We just hug him and forget it, Little cat like any other.