The Lion, he prowleth far and near.
Nor swerves for pain or rue;
He heedeth nought of sloth nor fear,
He prowleth—prowleth through
The silent glade and the weary street,
In the empty dark and the full noon heat;
And a little Lamb with aching feet—
He prowleth too.
The Lion croucheth alert, apart—
With patience doth he woo;