A Dying Tiger - moaned for Drink -
I hunted all the Sand -
I caught the Dripping of a Rock
And bore it in my Hand -
His Mighty Balls - in death were thick -
But searching - I could see
A Vision on the Retina
Of Water - and of me -
'Twas not my blame - who sped too slow -
'Twas not his blame - who died
While I was reaching him -
But 'twas - the fact that He was dead.
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