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WILLIAM H. DAVIES The Captive Lion Thou that in fury with thy knotted tail Hast made this iron floor thy beaten drum; That now in silence walkst thy little space -- Like a sea-captain -- careless what may come: What power has brought thy majesty to this, Who gave those eyes their dull and sleepy look; Who took their lightning out, and from thy throat The thunder when the whole wide forest shook? It was that man who went again, alone, Into thy forest dark -- Lord, he was brave! That man a fly has killed, whose bones are left Unburied till an earthquake digs his grave. A Bird's Anger A summer's morning that has but one voice; Five hundred stocks, like golden lovers, lean Their heads together, in their quiet way, And but one bird sings, of a number seen. It is the lark, that louder, louder sings, As though but this one thought possessed his mind: 'You silent robin, blackbird, thrush, and finch, I'll sing enough for all you lazy kind!' And when I hear him at this daring task, 'Peace, little bird,' I say, 'and take some rest; Stop that wild, screaming fire of angry song, Before it makes a coffin of your nest

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