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Eddying round and round they sink
But the Kitten, how she starts,
Crouches, stretches, paws, and darts;
Lets it go as fast, and then
Has it in her power again:
Now she works with three or four,
Like an Indian Conjuror;
Quick as he in feats of art,
Far beyond in joy of heart. t
Were her antics play'd in the eye
Of a thousand Standers-by,
Clapping hands with shout and stare.
What would little Tabby care
For the plaudits of the Crowd?
Over happy to be proud,
Over wealthy in the treasure
Of her own exceeding pleasure!
'Tis a pretty Baby-treat;
Of the countless living things,
—Where is he that giddy Sprite,
If you look to vale or hill,
Yet, whate'er enjoyments dwell