Cat in Window with Essayist

Montaigne and his Kitten

Hither, Blanche! ‘Tis you and I.
Now that not a fool is by
To say we fool it—let us fool!
We, you know, in mind are one,
Alumni of no fagging school;
Superfluous business still we shun;
And ambition we let go,
The while poor dizzards strain and strive,

Rave and slave, drudge and drive,
Chasing ever, to and fro,
After ends that seldom gain
Scant exemption from life’s pain.

But preachment proses, and so I.
Blanche, round your furred neck let me tie
This Order, with brave ribbon, see,—
The King he pinned it upon me.

But hark ye, sweeting,—well-a-day!
Forever shall ye purr this way—
Forever comfortable be?
Don’t you wish now ’twas for ye,
Our grandiouse eternity?
Pish! what fops we humans here,
Won’t admit within our sphere
The whitest doe, nor even thee—
We, the spotless humans, we!

Preaching, prosing—scud and run,
Earnestness is far from fun.
Bless me, Blanche; we’ll frisk tonight,
Hearts be ours lilt and light—
Gambol, skip, and frolic, play:
Wise ones fool it while they may!

— Herman Melville, from Selected Poems of Herman Melville (Doubleday Anchor, 1964)

When I play with my cat, who knows but that she regards me more as a plaything that I do her?
- Michel de Montaigne

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