Zulia, my little cat,
I like you, not for this or that,
But just because you seem to be,
My Zulia, made for me.
If Zulia had a soul,
Why should I care to claim control?
But no such needless longings stir
That vivid peace in her.
Zulia, you love, I know,
The amber shawl that suits you so;
And then how could one but be vain
Of such a ring and chain?
You love to dream, and feel
So good, in church, because you kneel;
You love to dream of lovers, ah!
In Toni's gondola.
You little Japanese,
Made to be pleased, and made to please,
So quaint and smiling, and so small
A dainty animal;
You know that life's a game,
And blanks and prizes just the same,
And all we have to do is, play
The game out, day by day.
Zulia, those eyes were meant
But to be sunnily content;
And those small kiss-curls, one by one,
Kissed over, in the sun.
I kiss them now to-night,
Dear, if you knew with what delight,
You must needs know (and God forbid
My Zulia ever did!)
How one may prejudice
The very honey of a kiss,
When women catch, and men may not control,
The new disease of soul.
