And grave cat duties follow behind. MICE (The kitten stared with her great green eyes, No more tit-bits, dainty and nice, (The kitten's heart beat with great pit-pats, The scorn of dogs, but the terror of cats, Use well your paws, and strengthen your claws, Then woe to the tribe of pickers and stealers, But now that you know life's not precisely Out at the window and in at the door, Roll on the turf and play in the sun, Ere night-time cometh, and kittenhood's done. T. WESTWOOD. Alice. I supppose it is an allegory of growing up. Aunt C. You can have it in another aspect in the "Kitten and Falling Leaves," at which you must fancy Mr. Wordsworth looking, with his baby-daughter Dora in his arms. Alice. I know he was called a Lake poet, and lived between 1770 and 1850, but that's all. Aunt C. The name of Lake poets was given to the three friends, William Wordsworth, Robert Southey, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, because they lived in the Lake country in Westmoreland. Two of them married sisters, and the whole lives of Wordsworth and Southey were spent among those mountains. Wordsworth knew every rock and pass, loved every tree and flower, and saw deep meanings in everything. He delighted, too, in the homely, friendly people, and talked and lived much with them. I told you that Cowper made a great step in making poetry simple and easy, and Wordsworth still more made it a principle that the poetry should be in the thought, and that the words had better be as plain and simple and untwisted as possible. Ed. Sensible man! Alice. I hope he was happier than poor Cowper. Aunt C. He was as happy a man as ever lived, always thinking noble and sweet thoughts, and pouring them out in flowing words, feeling that he was doing his work in helping people to trace God's hand in everything, and loved and honoured by all. It was thought a great thing to see that fine venerable old man; so, though some of his verses are sometimes laughed at and thought childish, and others may be lengthy and tiresome, he has really done much for English taste in poetry. These verses were written when he was a comparatively young man. Let us have them, Alice. Alice. Only, first, what is a parachute ? Aunt C. A thing somewhat like an umbrella, unclosed but not fastened, open. It was taken up in balloons to descend in, opening as it fell, so as to break the shock. THE KITTEN AND THE FALLING LEAVES. 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 With a tiger-leap half way, Now she meets the coming prey, Now she works with three or four, Like an Indian conjuror. Quick as he in feats of art, Far beyond in joy of heart; Were her antics played in th' eye Of her own exceeding pleasure. WORDSWORTH. Grace. How pretty! How like the kitten! Aunt C. This is only a portion of the poem. You would be less interested in the rest; but I am going to read you the conclusion, where Wordsworth says he wishes ever to Keep the sprightly soul awake, And have faculties to take, Even from things by sorrow taught, |