Great is the Golden Cat who treads
The Blue Roof Garden o’er our heads,
The never tired smiling One
That Human People call the Sun.
He stretches forth his paw at dawn
And though the blinds are closely drawn
His claws peep through like Rays of Light,
To catch the fluttering Bird of Night.
He smiles into the Hayloft dim
And the brown Hay smiles back at him,
And when he strokes the Earth’s green fur
He makes the Fields and Meadows purr.
His face is one big Golden smile,
It measures round, at least a mile—
How dull our World would be, and flat,
Without the Golden Pussy Cat.
