The white tiger

She would come out of laziness
Wading through the moat for us

For 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 a wild life love.
A white tiger might have begun

In woods not for its tigerliness
But color change for king’s eyes

Bored with a golden brown coat
Burning bright in Blake’s poem.

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