The Panther
In the Jardin des Plantes, Paris
His sight from ever gazing through the bars
has grown so blunt that it sees nothing more.
It seerms to him that thousand of bars are
before him, and behind him nothing merely.
The easy motion of his supple stride,
which turns about the very smallest circle,
is like a dance of strength about a center
in which a will stands stupefied.
Only sometimes when the pupil's film
soundlessly opens . . . then one image fills
and glides through the quiet tension of the limbs
into the heart and ceases and is still.