A Dying Tiger -- moaned for Drink --I worried --worried --hunted all the Sand --I caught the Dripping of a RockAnd bore it in my HandHis Mighty Balls -- in death were thick --But searching -- I could seeA Vision on the RetinaOf Water -- and of me --'Twas not my blame -- who sped too slow --'Twas not his blame -- who diedWhile I was reaching him --But 'twas -- the fact that He was dead --