Best Famous Tabby Poems

Here is a collection of the all-time best famous Tabby poems. This is a select list of the best famous Tabby poetry. Reading, writing, and enjoying famous Tabby poetry (as well as classical and contemporary poems) is a great past time. These top poems are the best examples of tabby poems.

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• All Famous Tabby Poems

Written by T S (Thomas Stearns) Eliot | The Old Gumbie Cat I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; Her coat is of the tabby kind, with tiger stripes and leopard spots. All day she sits upon the stair or on the steps or on the mat; She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. And when all the family's in bed and asleep, She tucks up her skirts to the basement to creep. She is deeply concerned with the ways of the mice-- Their behaviour's not good and their manners not nice; So when she has got them lined up on the matting, She teachs them music, crocheting and tatting. I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; Her equal would be hard to find, she likes the warm and sunny spots. All day she sits beside the hearth or on the bed or on my hat: She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. As she finds that the mice will not ever keep quiet, She is sure it is due to irregular diet; And believing that nothing is done without trying, She sets right to work with her baking and frying. She makes them a mouse--cake of bread and dried peas, And a beautiful fry of lean bacon and cheese. I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots; The curtain-cord she likes to wind, and tie it into sailor-knots. She sits upon the window-sill, or anything that's smooth and flat: She sits and sits and sits and sits--and that's what makes a Gumbie Cat! But when the day's hustle and bustle is done, Then the Gumbie Cat's work is but hardly begun. She thinks that the cockroaches just need employment To prevent them from idle and wanton destroyment. So she's formed, from that lot of disorderly louts, A troop of well-disciplined helpful boy-scouts, With a purpose in life and a good deed to do-- And she's even created a Beetles' Tattoo. So for Old Gumbie Cats let us now give three cheers-- On whom well-ordered households depend, it appears.

Written by Marge Piercy | Traveling Dream I am packing to go to the airport but somehow I am never packed. I keep remembering more things I keep forgetting. Secretly the clock is bolting forward ten minutes at a click instead of one. Each time I look away, it jumps. Now I remember I have to find the cats. I have four cats even when I am asleep. One is on the bed and I slip her into the suitcase. One is under the sofa. I drag him out. But the tabby in the suitcase has vanished. Now my tickets have run away. Maybe the cat has my tickets. I can only find one cat. My purse has gone into hiding. Now it is time to get packed. I take the suitcase down. There is a cat in it but no clothes. My tickets are floating in the bath tub full of water. I dry them. One cat is in my purse but my wallet has dissolved. The tickets are still dripping. I look at the clock as it leaps forward and see I have missed my plane. My bed is gone now. There is one cat the size of a sofa.

Written by Walter de la Mare | Miss Loo When thin-strewn memory I look through, I see most clearly poor Miss Loo, Her tabby cat, her cage of birds, Her nose, her hair -- her muffled words, And how she'd open her green eyes, As if in some immense surprise, Whenever as we sat at tea, She made some small remark to me. It's always drowsy summer when From out the past she comes again; The westering sunshine in a pool Floats in her parlour still and cool; While the slim bird its lean wires shakes, As into piercing song it breaks Till Peter's pale-green eyes ajar Dream, wake; wake, dream, in one brief bar; And I am sitting , dull and shy And she with gaze of vacancy, And large hands folded on the tray, Musing the afternoon away; Her satin bosom heaving slow With sighs that softly ebb and flow, And her plain face in such dismay, It seems unkind to look her way: Until all cheerful back will come Her cheerful gleaming spirit home: And one would think that poor Miss Loo Asked nothing else, if she had you.

Written by Mary Darby Robinson | Mistress Gurtons Cat Old MISTRESS GURTON had a Cat, A Tabby, loveliest of the race, Sleek as a doe, and tame, and fat With velvet paws, and whisker'd face; The Doves of VENUS not so fair, Nor JUNO'S Peacocks half so grand As MISTRESS GURTON'S Tabby rare, The proudest of the purring band; So dignified in all her paces-- She seem'd, a pupil of the Graces! There never was a finer creature In all the varying whims of Nature! All liked Grimalkin, passing well! Save MISTRESS GURTON, and, 'tis said, She oft with furious ire would swell, When, through neglect or hunger keen, Puss, with a pilfer'd scrap, was seen, Swearing beneath the pent-house shed: For, like some fav'rites, she was bent On all things, yet with none content; And still, whate'er her place or diet, She could not pick her bone, in quiet. Sometimes, new milk GRIMALKIN stole, And sometimes--over-set the bowl! For over eagerness will prove, Oft times the bane of what we love; And sometimes, to her neighbour's home, GRIMALKIN, like a thief would roam, Teaching poor Cats, of humbler kind, For high example sways the mind! Sometimes she paced the garden wall, Thick guarded by the shatter'd pane, And lightly treading with disdain, Fear'd not Ambition's certain fall! Old China broke, or scratch'd her Dame And brought domestic friends to shame! And many a time this Cat was curst, Of squalling, thieving things, the worst! Wish'd Dead ! and menanc'd with a string, For Cats of such scant Fame, deserv'd to swing! One day, report, for ever busy, Resolv'd to make Dame Gurton easy; A Neighbour came, with solemn look, And thus, the dismal tidings broke. "Know you, that poor GRIMALKIN died "Last night, upon the pent-house side? "I heard her for assistance call; "I heard her shrill and dying squall! "I heard her, in reproachful tone, "Pour, to the stars, her feeble groan! "Alone, I heard her piercing cries-- "With not a Friend to close her Eyes!" "Poor Puss ! I vow it grieves me sore, "Never to see thy beauties more! "Never again to hear thee purr, "To stroke thy back, of Zebra fur; "To see thy emral'd eyes--so bright, "Flashing around their lust'rous light "Amid the solemn shades of night! "Methinks I see her pretty paws-- "As gracefully she paced along; "I hear her voice, so shrill, among "The chimney rows ! I see her claws, "While, like a Tyger, she pursued "Undauntedly the pilf'ring race; "I see her lovely whisker'd face "When she her nimble prey subdued! "And then, how she would frisk, and play, "And purr the Evening hours away: "Now stretch'd beside the social fire; "Now on the sunny lawn, at noon, "Watching the vagrant Birds that flew, "Across the scene of varied hue, "To peck the Fruit. Or when the Moon "Stole o'er the hills, in silv'ry suit, "How would she chaunt her lovelorn Tale "Soft as the wild Eolian Lyre! "'Till ev'ry brute, on hill, in dale, "Listen'd with wonder mute!" "O! Cease!" exclaim'd DAME GURTON, straight, "Has my poor Puss been torn away? "Alas ! how cruel is my fate, "How shall I pass the tedious day? "Where can her mourning mistress find "So sweet a Cat? so meek! so kind! "So keen a mouser, such a beauty, "So orderly, so fond, so true, "That every gentle task of duty "The dear, domestic creature knew! "Hers, was the mildest tend'rest heart! "She knew no little cattish art; "Not cross, like fav'rite Cats , was she "But seem'd the queen of Cats to be! "I cannot live--since doom'd, alas ! to part "From poor GRIMALKIN kind, the darling of my heart!" And now DAME GURTON, bath'd in tears, With a black top-knot vast, appears: Some say that a black gown she wore, As many oft have done before, For Beings, valued less, I ween, Than this, of Tabby Cats, the fav'rite Queen! But lo ! soon after, one fair day, Puss, who had only been a roving-- Across the pent-house took her way, To see her Dame, so sad, and loving; Eager to greet the mourning fair She enter'd by a window, where A China bowl of luscious cream Was quiv'ring in the sunny beam. Puss, who was somewhat tired and dry, And somewhat fond of bev'rage sweet; Beholding such a tempting treat, Resolved its depth to try. She saw the warm and dazzling ray Upon the spotless surface play: She purr'd around its circle wide, And gazed, and long'd, and mew'd and sigh'd! But Fate, unfriendly, did that hour controul, She overset the cream, and smash'd the gilded bowl! As MISTRESS GURTON heard the thief, She started from her easy chair, And, quite unmindful of her grief, Began aloud to swear! "Curse that voracious beast!" she cried, "Here SUSAN bring a cord-- I'll hang the vicious, ugly creature-- "The veriest plague e'er form'd by nature!" And MISTRESS GURTON kept her word-- And Poor GRIMALKIN--DIED ! Thus, often, we with anguish sore The dead , in clam'rous grief deplore; Who, were they once alive again Would meet the sting of cold disdain! For FRIENDS, whom trifling faults can sever, Are valued most , WHEN LOST FOR EVER!

Written by Thomas Gray | On The Death Of A Favourite Cat Drowned In A Tub Of Gold Fishes 'Twas on a lofty vase's side, Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers that blow, Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima, reclined, Gazed on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declared; The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws, Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, She saw; and purred applause. Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide, The genii of the stream: Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue Through richest purple to the view Betrayed a golden gleam. The hapless nymph with wonder saw: A whisker first, and then a claw, With many an ardent wish, She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize. What female heart can gold despise? What cat's averse to fish? Presumptuous maid! with looks intent Again she stretched, again she bent, Nor knew the gulf between: (Malignant Fate sat by, and smiled) The slippery verge her feet beguiled, She tumbled headlong in. Eight times emerging from the flood She mewed to ev'ry wat'ry god Some speedy aid to send. No dolphin came, no nereid stirred; Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. A fav'rite has no friend! From hence, ye beauties undeceived, Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved, And be with caution bold. Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes And heedless hearts is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters, gold.

Written by Robert William Service | My Feud I hate my neighbour Widow Green; I'd like to claw her face; But if I did she'd make a scene And run me round the place: For widows are in way of spleen A most pugnacious race. And yet I must do something quick To keep the hag in line, Since her red rooster chose to pick Five lettuce heads of mine: And so I fed it arsenic Which it did not decline. It disappeared, but on my mat Before a week had sped I found Mi-mi, my tabby cat And it was stoney dead; I diagnosed with weeping that On strychnine it had fed. And so I bought a hamburg steak, Primed it with powdered glass, And left it for her dog to take With gulping from the grass: Since then, although I lie awake I have not seen it pass. Well, that's the scoring up to date: And as I read a text From Job to justify my hate I wonder who'll be next? Somehow I feel that one must die, Ma Green or I.