Poems
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.
Swift Things Are Beautiful
by Elizabeth Coatsworth
Swift things are beautiful: Swallows and deer, And lightning that falls
Bright-veined and clear, Rivers and meteors, Wind in the wheat, The
strong-withered horse, The runner’s sure feet.
And slow things are beautiful: The closing of day, The pause of the wave
That curves downward to spray, The ember that crumbles, The opening
flower And the ox that moves on In the quiet of power.
Wanted-A Witch’s Cat
by Shelagh McGee
Wanted—a witch’s cat. Must have vigor and spite, Be expert at hissing,
And good in a fight, And have balance and poise On a broomstick at
night.
Wanted—a witch’s cat. Must have hypnotic eyes To tantalize victims And
mesmerize spies, And be an adept At scanning the skies.
Wanted—a witch’s cat, With a sly, cunning smile, A knowledge of spells
And a good deal of guile, With a fairly hot temper And plenty of bile.
Wanted—a witch’s cat, Who’s not afraid to fly, For a cat with strong
nerves The salary’s high Wanted—a witch’s cat;
Only the best need apply.
