 | The collected works of Ambrose Bierce |  |
THE VAIN CAT
Remarked a Tortoise to a Cat:“Your speed's a thing to marvel at!
I saw you as you flitted by,
And wished I were one-half so spry.”
The Cat said, humbly: “Why, indeed
I was not showing then my speed—
That was a poor performance.” Then
She said exultantly (as when
The condor feels his bosom thrill
Remembering Chimborazo's hill,
And how he soared so high above,
It looked a valley, he a dove):
“'Twould fire your very carapace
To see me with a dog in chase!”
Its snout in any kind of swill,
Pride, like a pig, will suck its fill.
| The collected works of Ambrose Bierce | |