Tiger, Tiger, in the gloom,
Of the silent living room,
What was the greed and what the hate
That led you to this sorry state?
Tiger, stretched out on the hearth,
Fangs bared in a snarl of death,
Framed in a savage symmetry
And an immortal ecstasy.
Tiger, Tiger, once so bright
In the forests of the night,
Prostrate now upon the floor,
A decoration, nothing more.
Tiger, with your subtlety,
Hunting skills, and cruel beauty,
Never to be seen again
Save for staring eyes and skin.