The Fox

Once a fox was lost in the field; No shelter, friends, nor food to yield! His fending hope has lastly keened, But stood once more when prey he gleaned... There he melded with flocks of sheep, Dealing and coping with their keep; Hardly bids to maintain his guise, Yet still a fox behind those eyes! He has sampled reed grass, at least, Though fox despised such meager feast; Athirst he was for blood and flesh— The fox's hunt proved fruitless, fresh. Then he crept at night, so sullen, Watched his cozy troupe, heart swollen; With eyes so wild, his mask now falls, And all his care breaks castle walls! He tried to curb his morbid crave, But nature's call he could not stave; And within a breath, off he gave— A savage slaughter none could save! His lethal claws that pierced through flesh, His irksome fangs of crimson mesh; The fox that once ate grassy fare, Now dwells in dreams of dark nightmare! The fox reveled, now bloody fed; All took place as his hunt had led. The fox is glad, the sheep lie dead— Away he prowls, new prey ahead...