 | Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox |  |
THE TIGER
In the still jungle of the senses lay
A tiger soundly sleeping, till one day
A bold young hunter chanced to come that way.
A tiger soundly sleeping, till one day
A bold young hunter chanced to come that way.
“How calm,” he said, “that splendid creature lies,
I long to rouse him into swift surprise!”
A well aimed arrow, shot from amorous eyes,
I long to rouse him into swift surprise!”
A well aimed arrow, shot from amorous eyes,
And lo! the tiger rouses up and turns,
A coal of fire his glowing eyeball burns,
His mighty frame with savage hunger yearns.
A coal of fire his glowing eyeball burns,
His mighty frame with savage hunger yearns.
He crouches for a spring; his eyes dilate—
Alas! bold hunter, what shall be thy fate?
Thou canst not fly, it is too late, too late.
Alas! bold hunter, what shall be thy fate?
Thou canst not fly, it is too late, too late.
Once having tasted human flesh, ah! then,
Woe, woe unto the whole rash world of men,
The awakened tiger will not sleep again.
Woe, woe unto the whole rash world of men,
The awakened tiger will not sleep again.
| Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox | |