The Elephant That mammoth, half seal, half elephant, Great Sire! how great the reason; how unfair The myths that you will piece and form, and form! By beast denied and subdued, to be sung In mythical tongues, and scribble late at night,

You elevate and leave the barren ground, Your music born on scents of flowers divine; And from the grave, you leap doomed to the boughs. You solemnly move and slumber-feedback From dawn to dusk, from dusk to dawn,—although The sky is bright or dim, and echoes still.

Your stately gait will not disgrace the trees, The scent of sunlit skies will lift your smile; And while the stars unto the clouds return, The weary sun will gently fade from sight.

You strengthen roots, you warble in the night, You rise to find the love of all that’s true; And though unfair the endless toil for you, The fief of peace arrives as is your brand.

—As great as mighty mammoth may herd; As great as unkempt elephant to strut, I weave afar the end, and end again. I note you by my bed, with hope for rest.

• Alfred Lord Tennyson