The Kitten, and Falling Leaves

See the kitten on the wall,

Sporting with the leaves that fall,

Withered leaves—one—two—and three—

From the lofty elder tree!

Through the calm and frosty air

Of this morning bright and fair,

Eddying round and round they sink

Softly, slowly: one might think

From the motions that are made,

Every little leaf conveyed

Sylph or fairy hither tending,

To this lower world descending,

Each invisible and mute,

In his wavering parachute.

But the kitten, how she starts,

Crouches, stretches, paws and darts!

First at one and then its fellow,

Just as light and just as yellow;

There are many now—now one—

Now they stop and there are none:

What intenseness of desire

In her upward eye of fire!

With a tiger-leap, half-way,

Now she meets the coming prey;

Lets it go as fast and then

Has it in her power again.

Now she works with three or four,

Like an Indian conjuror;

Quick as he in feats of art,

Far beyond in joy of heart.