The Lions
Bronze in the dawn they move,the proud and free,
their manes ablaze with Africa's first fire.
Each pawstep falls with the weight of prophecy-
lords of the dust,born of hunger and desire.
-
They do not kill for sport or applause,
but by the eternal decree of their bones.
Their eyes-two suns that know no laws-
burn where wilderness guards its ancient thrones.
The veldt trembles ; silence kneels before their thread,
their breath perfumes the carcass and the bloom,
They are the memory of the unaccounted dead,
and the hymn of kingdoms without tomb.
Let man look at them and learn again
that power is not greed,and rule is pain.
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