Edith Nesbit

Gratitude

   I FOUND a starving cat in the street:
      It cried for food and a place by the fire.
   I carried it home, and I strove to meet
      The claims of its desire.

   And since its desire was a little fish,
      A little hay and a little milk,
   I gave it cream in a silver dish
      And a basket lined with silk.

   And when we came to the grateful pause
      When it should have fawned on the hand that fed,
   It turned to a devil all teeth and claws,
      Scratched me and bit me and fled.

   To pay for the fish and the milk and the hay
      With a purr had been an easy task:
   But its hate and my blood were required to pay
      For the gifts that it did not ask.