Poems of Passion/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.

"How calm," he said, "that splendid creature lies! I long to rouse him into swift surprise." The 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.

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.

Once having tasted human flesh, ah! then, Woe, woe unto the whole rash world of men. The wakened tiger will not sleep again.