A Dying Tiger—moaned for Drink—
I hunted all the Sand—
Royal bengal tiger!
When swim to pass across river
Target is determined.
Just straight forward move on
The tiger, on the other hand,
Is kittenish and mild,
And makes a pretty playfellow
For any little child.
What of the hunting, hunter bold?
Brother, the watch was long and cold.
What of the quarry ye went to kill?
Brother, he crops in the jungle still.
Her dead lady's joy and comfort,
Who departed this life
The last day of March, 1727:
To the great joy of Bryan
Tiger with coat of dissimilar stripes,
When he’s angry, tiger swipes,
Tiger cautious, guarding his lair,
Danger lurking, tiger aware.
the hunt begins after sunset
under cracked moon, blindfolded clouds
start visiting volitionlessly:
A Fantasy, dedicated to the little poet Alice Oliver Henderson, ten years old.
The Fantasy shows how tiger-hearts are the cause of war in all ages. It shows how the mammoth forces may be either friends or enemies of the struggle for peace. It shows how the dream of peace is unconquerable and eternal.
A tiny tabby kitten, with sad brown eyes.
Sat on the porch of a broken down house.
He was about to become homeless,
without any food, not even a mouse.