Classic Poem

One evening there came to the hearth-stone and sat,
To warm their two noses, the dog and the cat.
The cat sat onblinking, and purring aloud,
The dog ogled at her as angry as proud,
For he would have felt quite as fain as a mouse
To see a pet cat driven out of the house.
" I've wonder'd," he mutter'd, " for many a day,
Why cats wield their tails in your thwartover way."
" What way?" said the cat; " Why, what harm can we do
In wielding of tails, to the world or to you?"
" You cats wag your tails, be they shorter or long,
In anger," growl'd he, " which most clearly is wrong;
We waggle our tails, as most clearly is right,
In token of gladness, and not of our spite."
Says Puss, " You can waggle your tails as you will,
And we will wag ours when we won't keep them still,
There surely is house-room for our tails to go,
And room for you dogs to flip yours to and fro;
Nor master nor mistress has made it a crime
That we don't wag tails at the dogs' wagging time.
You stickle for freedom we all hear you say:
You give neighbours freedom to follow your way."
" No, no," said the dog; " It is all out of spite
To make us seem wrong when we know we are right;
As if we had never the wit to find out
When tails should be still, or be waggled about.
I'll have you," he cried with a gripe and a grudge,
" To Jowler , the dog in the yard. He shall judge." —
Then in came his master and gave him a swipe
Or two with a whip, and he let go his gripe;
" Let him," said the man, " that will not leave his mate
To waggle his tail when he will leave my gate."

The dog's the intolerant man who would bind
By law, or by might, ev'ry man to his mind.