Tearaway kitten or staid mother of fifty,
Persian, Chinchilla, Siamese
Or backstreet brawler -you all have tiger in your blood
And eyes opaque as the sacred mysteries
Like poets you wrap your solitude around you
And catch your meaning unawares:
With consequential trot or frantic tarantella
You follow up your top secret affairs.
The best of his lines in this poem I included. Some tropes border on the banal, as in, "eyes opaque as sacred mysteries". The echoes of "Pangur Ban", the medieval text, are refreshingly recalled. The lines from the 9th century:
My feeble eye is fixed on a book.
You rejoice, when your claws entrap a mouse;
I rejoice when my mind fathoms a problem.
Perhaps Day-Lewis's insistence on clarity has been confused with the mundane. Surely we should celebrate his graceful and lucid restatement of important themes.