We mourn the loss of our little pet,
And sigh o’er her hapless fate,
For never more by the fire she’ll sit,
Nor play by the old green gate.
The little grave where her infant sleeps
Is ‘neath the chestnut tree.
But o’er her grave we may not weep,
We know not where it may be.
Her empty bed, her idle ball,
Will never see her more;
No gentle tap, no loving purr
Is heard at the parlor door.
Another cat comes after her mice,
A cat with a dirty face,
But she does not hunt as our darling did,
Nor play with her airy grace.
Her stealthy paws tread the very hall
Where Snowball used to play,
But she only spits at the dogs our pet
So gallantly drove away.
She is useful and mild, and does her best,
But she is not fair to see,
And we cannot give her your place dear,
Nor worship her as we worship thee.
(Louisa May Alcott)
More Poetry from Louisa May Alcott:
Louisa May Alcott Poems based on Topics: Nature, Faces, Fate & Destiny, Fire, Dogs, Cats, Pets- Clover-Blossom (Louisa May Alcott Poems)
- In The Garret (Louisa May Alcott Poems)
- The Flower's Lesson (Louisa May Alcott Poems)
- Little Paul (Louisa May Alcott Poems)
- The Downward Road (Louisa May Alcott Poems)
- A Little Grey Curl (Louisa May Alcott Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Nature Poems, Faces Poems, Fire Poems, Fate & Destiny Poems, Dogs Poems, Cats Poems, Pets PoemsBased on Keywords: snowball