Amy Ella Blanchard

“ In came the mother cat, stopped short, and said,
“What has happened, children, since I went out?
What in the world is this fuss about?”
“O, mother, mother! we cannot be blamed;
Tell us, dear mother, why we are not named;
We are so ashamed, oh, what shall we do!
Meow, meow! O, dear mother! Meow, meow! Mew, mew!”
“Well,” said their mother, “blood will tell, I’m sure;
Such ambitious kittens show Maltese, pure. ”

“ Eyes are bright, cheeks in a glow.
Out he crawls,
Now snow-balls
Fly against the trees and walls.
O, this is prime,
Now’s the time
To run and tumble, race and climb.
When we are old,
Snow will seem cold,
And we’ll not be overbold. ”

“ But sleek-coated, fine-furred, thorough Maltese.
Said one to the other, “It is a shame
That we two kittens have never a name.
We belong to no one, none belongs to us,
Though I’ve heard some call our mother ‘Ma’am Puss.’”
“Hark!” said the other, “here mother comes now. ”