IN THE HAY-LOFT.

UP in the hay-loft—kitten and I! With a window open to the sky, Curtained with boughs of the chestnut-trees That toss and sway in the cool west breeze. The dome of the sky with a cloud is lined, And the rain comes down when it has a mind, Pelting the leaves of the chestnut-tree; Never the rain can touch kitten and me. Up in the hay-loft—kitten and I! The hay behind us is mountain high; The beams across are dusty enough; Darkness broods in the peak of the roof. In pearly lines the daylight falls Through the chinks of the boarded walls; The air is fragrant with clover dried, Brake and daisies and things beside. Queer little spiders drop down from on high; Softly we welcome them—kitten and I! Swallows chirp in a lazy strain Between the showers of the summer rain. Let the rain come down from the clouded sky, We’re quiet and cosy—kitten and I! We muse and purr and think out a rhyme, And never know what has become of time. People down there in the world below, They toil and moil and get dinner and sew; Up in the hay we lazily lie; We have no troubles—kitten and I! Kitten purrs and stretches and winks, She doesn’t speak, but I know what she thinks; Never a king had a throne so high, Never a bird had a cosier nest; There is much that is good, but we have the best— Kitten, kitten and I!