So now your tale of years is done, Old Fluff, my friend, and you have won, Beyond our land of mist and rain, Your way to the Elysian plain, Where through the shining hours of heat A cat may bask and lap and eat; Where goldfish glitter in the streams, And mice refresh your waking dreams, And all, in fact, is planned--and that's Its great delight--to please the cats.
Yet sometimes, too, your placid mind Will turn to those you've left behind, And most to one who sheds her tears, The mistress of your later years, Who sheds her tears to summon back Her faithful cat, the white-and-black.
Fluffy, full well you understood The frequent joys of motherhood-- To lick, from pointed tail to nape, The mewing litter into shape; To show, with pride that condescends, Your offspring to your human friends, And all our sympathy to win For every kit tucked snugly in.
In your familiar garden ground We've raised a tributary mound, And passing by it we recite Your merits and your praise aright.
"Here lies," we say, "from care released A faithful, furry, friendly beast. Responsive to the lightest word, About these walks her purr was heard. Love she received, for much she earned, And much in kindness she returned. Wherefore her comrades go not by Her little grave without a sigh."
I've a palace set in a garden fair, And, oh, but the flowers are rich and rare, Always growing And always blowing Winter or summer--it doesn't matter-- For there's never a wind that dares to scatter The wonderful petals that scent the air About the walls of my palace there. And the palace itself is very old, And it's built of ivory splashed with gold. It has silver ceilings and jasper floors And stairs of marble and crystal doors; And whenever I go there, early or late, The two tame dragons who guard the gate And refuse to open the frowning portals To sisters, brothers and other mortals, Get up with a grin And let me in. And I tickle their ears and pull their tails And pat their heads and polish their scales; And they never attempt to flame or fly, Being quelled by me and my human eye. Then I pour them drink out of golden flagons, Drink for my two tame trusty dragons... But John, Who's a terrible fellow for chattering on, John declares They are Teddy-bears; And the palace itself, he has often said, Is only the gardener's lean-to shed.