She would come out of laziness
Wading through the moat for us
For a visual contrast for cameras.
She finds her own white boring
In a bleak brown zoo enclosure
The green water may liven it up.
We try to reason need for white
A setting apart sense, idle king’s
Sylvan fancy or his wild life love.
A white tiger might have begun
In woods not its own tigerliness
But color change for king’s eyes
Bored with golden brown coat
Burning bright in Blake’s poem.