Poor prisoner in a cage, I understand your rage Any why you loudly roar Walking that stony floor.
Your forest eyes are sad As wearily you pad A few yards up and down, A king without a crown.
Up and down all day. A wild beast for display, Or lying in the heat With sawdust, smells and meat,
Remembering how you chased Your jungle prey, and raced, Leaping upon their backs Along the grassy tracks.
But you are here instead, Better, perhaps, be dead Than locked in this dark den; Forgive us, lion, then Who did not ever choose, Our circuses and zoos.