From: daj8m@poe.acc.Virginia.EDU (Deirdre A. Johnson)
Subject: 1 Black cat name, 2 Irish poems & a book recommendation
Organization: University of Virginia
Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1992 17:10:17 GMT

Hi, everyone!  I hope my header isn't confusing - The thread about
black kitten names made me remember a poem by Yeats, which I thought
you might enjoy if you don't already know it.  And I thought while
I was at it, I'd post another Irish poem, written by a monk in the 
ninth century, in the margin of the manuscript he was "really" writing,
as a tribute to his cat.  I got the second poem out of a book my sister
gave me for my birthday, and, since it makes a great present for 
cat-lovers, I thought I'd tell you how to get hold of it at the end 
of my post.  So, here goes (hope this isn't too long)

                  The Cat and the Moon

          The cat went here and there
          And the moon spun round like a top,
          And the nearest kin of the moon, 
          The creeping cat looked up.
          Black Minnaloushe stared at the moon,
          For, wonder and wail as he would,
          The pure cold light in the sky
          Troubled his animal blood.
          Minnaloushe runs in the grass
          Lifting his delicate feet.
          Do you dance, Minnaloushe, do you dance?
          When two close kindred meet,
          What better than call a dance?
          Maybe the moon may learn,
          Tired of that courtly fashion,
          A new dance turn.
          Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
          From moonlit place to place,
          The sacred moon overhead
          Has taken a new phase.
          Does Minnaloushe know that his pupils
          Will pass from change to change,
          And that from round to crescent,
          From crescent to round they range?
          Minnaloushe creeps through the grass
          Alone, important and wise,
          And lifts to the changing moon
          His changing eyes.
                              -W. B. Yeats

               Pangur Bawn

          Me and Pangur Bawn my cat
          Each has his aspiration;
          Pangur's mind is set on mice
          And mine on education.

          More than any fame I love
          My books, pursuing learning;
          Nor does my friend envy me-
          Mice are Pangur's yearning.

          In our cell and all alone,
          Both of us have endless fun;
          Nobody is ever bored,
          Skillfully the work gets done.

          Often, with a furious pounce,
          In his net he snares a mouse;
          I, too, net, with mind intent
          Philosophic argument.

          Eagerly he'll watch the wall,
          His beady bright eye burning;
          I fix mine, weak as it is,
          On the light of learning.

          Joyfully he'll dash about,
          A mouse caught in his sure claws;
          I am every bit as pleased,
          Skewering obscure laws.

          Happily we spend long hours,
          Pangur Bawn, my cat and I;
          Each of us loves what he does,
          Peacefully time passes by.

          The work Pangur does each day,
          For a cat is fit and right;
          So it goes with my work too,
          Bringing darkness up to light.

                                    -Anon., 9th century
                       Translated from the Old Irish by Malachi McCormick

This poem is in "Other Cats", a small (3" by 4.5") handmade boxed set of
cat poems and stories from all over the world, put out by the Stone Street
Press.  Their address is: The Stone Street Press, 1 Stone St., S.1.,
                          N.Y. 10304  USA
                          Telephone: (212) 447-1436.

-That's it for this post.  I hope you enjoyed the poems!

                                -Deirdre at Virginia (daj8m@virginia.edu)