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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=508638" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Sensibility</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once, when a boy, I killed a cat.<br>I guess it's just because of that<br>A cat evokes my tenderness,<br>And takes so kindly my caress.<br>For with a rich, resonant purr<br>It sleeks an arch or ardent fur<br>So vibrantly against my shin;<br>And as I tickle tilted chin<br>And rub the roots of velvet ears<br>Its tail in undulation rears.<br>Then tremoring with all its might,<br>In blissful sensuous delight,<br>It looks aloft with lambent eyes,<br>Mystic, Egyptianly wise,<br>And O so eloquently tries<br>In every fibre to express<br>Consummate trust and friendliness.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I think the longer that we live<br>The more do we grow sensitive<br>Of hurt and harm to man and beast,<br>And learn to suffer at the least<br>Surmise of other's suffering;<br>Till pity, lie an eager spring<br>Wells up, and we are over-fain<br>To vibrate to the chords of pain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For look you - after three-score yeas<br>I see with anguish nigh to tears<br>That starveling cat so sudden still<br>I set my terrier to to kill.<br>Great, golden memories pale away,<br>But that unto my dying day<br>Will haunt and haunt me horribly.<br>Why, even my poor dog felt shame<br>And shrank away as if to blame<br>of that poor mangled mother-cat<br>Would ever lie at his doormat.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">  III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">What's done is done. No power can bring<br>To living joy a slaughtered thing.<br>Aye, if of life I gave my own<br>I could not for my guilt atone.<br>And though in stress of sea and land<br>Sweet breath has ended at my hand,<br>That boyhood killing in my eyes<br>A thousand must epitomize.<br>Yet to my twilight steals a thought:<br>Somehow forgiveness may be bought;<br>Somewhere I'll live my life again<br>So finely sensitized to pain,<br>With heart so rhymed to truth and right<br>That Truth will be a blaze of light;<br>All all the evil I have wrought<br>Will haggardly to home be brought. . . .<br>Then will I know my hell indeed,<br>And bleed where I made others bleed,<br>Till purged by penitence of sin<br>To Peace (or Heaven) I may win.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Well, anyway, you know the why<br>We are so pally, cats and I;<br>So if you have the gift of shame,<br>O Fellow-sinner, be the same.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</a><div class=q>
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Once, when a boy, I killed a cat.
I guess it's just because of that
A cat evokes my tenderness,
And takes so kindly my caress.
For with a rich, resonant purr
It sleeks an arch or ardent fur
So vibrantly against my shin;
And as I tickle tilted c..."></div>
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