Thy paw makes early flowers
of all things.
thy fur mostly the hours love:
a smoothness which
sings,purring
(though love be a day)
do not fear,we will go a-playing.

To be thy ears is a sweet thing
and small.
Death,thee i call rich beyond wishing
if this thou scratch,
else missing.
(though love be a day
and life be nothing,it shall not stop hissing).