Cat Poems (Caturday)

Cat Poems

What are Some Cat Poems?

Okay. The aforementioned verses by Christopher Smart really are lovely. We mention them a lot on this site, and there’s a reason for that. A bit of background: Smart was an 18th century poet whose verse tends to sound very Biblical. He wrote a larger poem called “Jubilate Agno” (“Rejoice in the Lamb”) that seems to divide into sections. One of those sections begins: “For I will consider my cat Jeoffry.” That’s it. That’s the background.

“For I will Consider my Cat Jeoffry” from Jubilate Agno by Christopher Smart

For I will consider my Cat Jeoffry.
For he is the servant of the Living God duly and daily serving him.
For at the first glance of the glory of God in the East he worships in his way.
For this is done by wreathing his body seven times round with elegant quickness.
For then he leaps up to catch the musk, which is the blessing of God upon his prayer.
For he rolls upon prank to work it in.
For having done duty and received blessing he begins to consider himself.
For this he performs in ten degrees.
For first he looks upon his forepaws to see if they are clean.
For secondly he kicks up behind to clear away there.
For thirdly he works it upon stretch with the forepaws extended.
For fourthly he sharpens his paws by wood.
For fifthly he washes himself.
For sixthly he rolls upon wash.
For seventhly he fleas himself, that he may not be interrupted upon the beat.
For eighthly he rubs himself against a post.
For ninthly he looks up for his instructions.
For tenthly he goes in quest of food.
For having consider’d God and himself he will consider his neighbour.
For if he meets another cat he will kiss her in kindness.
For when he takes his prey he plays with it to give it a chance.
For one mouse in seven escapes by his dallying.
For when his day’s work is done his business more properly begins.
For he keeps the Lord’s watch in the night against the adversary.
For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes.
For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.
For in his morning orisons he loves the sun and the sun loves him.
For he is of the tribe of Tiger.
For the Cherub Cat is a term of the Angel Tiger.
For he has the subtlety and hissing of a serpent, which in goodness he suppresses.
For he will not do destruction, if he is well-fed, neither will he spit without provocation.
For he purrs in thankfulness, when God tells him he’s a good Cat.
For he is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon.
For every house is incomplete without him and a blessing is lacking in the spirit.
For the Lord commanded Moses concerning the cats at the departure of the Children of Israel from Egypt.
For every family had one cat at least in the bag.
For the English Cats are the best in Europe.
For he is the cleanest in the use of his forepaws of any quadruped.
For the dexterity of his defence is an instance of the love of God to him exceedingly.
For he is the quickest to his mark of any creature.
For he is tenacious of his point.
For he is a mixture of gravity and waggery.
For he knows that God is his Saviour.
For there is nothing sweeter than his peace when at rest.
For there is nothing brisker than his life when in motion.
For he is of the Lord’s poor and so indeed is he called by benevolence perpetually—Poor Jeoffry! poor Jeoffry! the rat has bit thy throat.
For I bless the name of the Lord Jesus that Jeoffry is better.
For the divine spirit comes about his body to sustain it in complete cat.
For his tongue is exceeding pure so that it has in purity what it wants in music.
For he is docile and can learn certain things.
For he can set up with gravity which is patience upon approbation.
For he can fetch and carry, which is patience in employment.
For he can jump over a stick which is patience upon proof positive.
For he can spraggle upon waggle at the word of command.
For he can jump from an eminence into his master’s bosom.
For he can catch the cork and toss it again.
For he is hated by the hypocrite and miser.
For the former is afraid of detection.
For the latter refuses the charge.
For he camels his back to bear the first notion of business.
For he is good to think on, if a man would express himself neatly.
For he made a great figure in Egypt for his signal services.
For he killed the Ichneumon-rat very pernicious by land.
For his ears are so acute that they sting again.
For from this proceeds the passing quickness of his attention.
For by stroking of him I have found out electricity.
For I perceived God’s light about him both wax and fire.
For the Electrical fire is the spiritual substance, which God sends from heaven to sustain the bodies both of man and beast.
For God has blessed him in the variety of his movements.
For, tho he cannot fly, he is an excellent clamberer.
For his motions upon the face of the earth are more than any other quadruped.
For he can tread to all the measures upon the music.
For he can swim for life.
For he can creep.

My favorite line is: “For by stroking him I have found out electricity.” Remember that this poem would have been composed in roughly 1760. Electricity was a poorly understood phenomenon. The word electron would not exist as such for at least a hundred years.

There are of course other cat poems. At the other end of the spectrum, there’s this little gem by Carl Sandburg:

“Fog” by Carl Sandburg

The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

And if you search around, you’ll find plenty more.

What’s the Deal with Cat Poems?

Why do people write cat poems? Poets seem to love to talk about cats. And there is a kinship between a poem and a cat. Neither can be forced. Both, at their best are sensual and loving and full of warmth and life. And, like a cat that occupies your lap when you’re trying to do something else, a good poem can sometimes grab hold of you and change the whole course of a day. There have been times when I’ve been angry or sad a bit of both and the only thing I could do was sit, or walk, and recite a particular poem to myself. Preferably out loud. Preferably from memory.

Not unlike those times when life gets the better of you and whatever you were planning on doing that day, what you end up doing is sitting and skritching a cat behind its little delicate ears.

Description

Four identical frames, grouped two-and-two. In each, two cats are sitting on a blue cushion, talking about life. On the left, a large orange with darker orange stripes. On the right, a small grey with darker grey stripes. The orange is looking down at the grey with an expression of warmth and indulgence, as for a beloved friend who is going through a rough time. The grey is looking off into the distance, its countenance twisted by a frown of unease and dissatisfaction.

Panel 1

Big Cat: So there was this poet, Christopher Smart, who wrote verses about his cat.
Little Cat? Oh? How were they?

Panel 2

Big Cat: Catastrophic!
Little Cat: …

Panel 3

Big Cat: Get it? He wrote strophes… about a cat… and they were…
Little Cat: …

Panel 4

Little Cat: Why do you do this to me, Big Cat?