  SOUNDLESS the moth-flit, crisp the death-watch tick; Crazed in her shaken arbour bird did sing; Slow wreathed the grease adown from soot-clogged wick: The Cat looked long and softly at the King. Mouse frisked and scampered, leapt, gnawed, squeaked; Small at the window looped cowled bat a-wing; The dim-lit rafters with the night-mist reeked: The Cat looked long and softly at the King. O wondrous robe enstarred, in night dyed deep: O air scarce-stirred with the Court's far junketing: O stagnant Royalty—A-swoon? Asleep? The Cat looked long and softly at the King.
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