by Ruth Pitter, 1938 (the drawing is mine… practicing lions.)

The heart shall not be satisfied
Till all creatures hear its word:
The lion's love must be its pride,
Its joy the friendship of a bird.

It would be welcome in the lairs
Of lynxes, and lie down with them,
Would lean upon the sides of bears,
Stroke the wild peacock's diadem:

Confer with singing seals in caves,
With the tall ostrich in the sand,
And where the long liana waves
Touch the great ape's accomplished hand.

How shall the heart such rapture reach
Till the stiff tongue its manners mend,
To say to men, in human speech,
Beloved, immortal spirit, friend?

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