How to Tell Wind Animals (part - 2)

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Poem#master

A tiger in the zoo

 He stalks in his vivid stripes The few steps of his cage, On pads of velvet quiet, In his quiet rage. He should be lurking in shadow, Sliding through long grass Near the water hole Where plump deer pass. He should be snarling around houses At the jungle's edge, Baring his white fangs, his claws,  Terrorising the village! But he's locked in a concrete cell, His strength behind bars, Stalking the length of his cage,  Ignoring visitors. He hears the last voice at night, The patrolling cars, And stares with with his brilliant eyes  At the brilliant stars.
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Animals

I think I could turn and live with animals, They are so placid and self-contain'd, I stand and look at them long and long. They do not sweat and whine about their condition, they do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth. So they show their relations to me and I accept them, they bring me tokens of myself, they evince them plainly in their possession. I wonder where they get those tokens, Did I pass that way huge times ago and negligently drop them?
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