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With poise and elegance, the cat sits long,
Eyeing the hole from which the rat comes out;
Though hours have passed and clock has said, ‘ding-dong, ’
The cat stays on unstirred, with tired snout.
With what deft moves, the lion hunts its prey,
By crouching long, amidst the tall Grasses!
What patience marks the mighty lions! Say,
’Twill chase the deer like wind across passes.
But man has learned this art better than beasts;
Without mercy, he can destroy his foes;
And o’er this victory, he sings and feasts;
Revenge brings man more foes and earthly-woes.
But beasts must hunt their food each day to live;
And man need not to beastly moods vent give.
7-12-2001
Dr John Celes
Read poems about / on: cat, food, wind, sonnet, hunting
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