The elephant, the huge old beast, <br />is slow to mate; <br />he finds a female, they show no haste <br />they wait <br /> <br />for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts <br />slowly, slowly to rouse <br />as they loiter along the river-beds <br />and drink and browse <br /> <br />and dash in panic through the brake <br />of forest with the herd, <br />and sleep in massive silence, and wake <br />together, without a word. <br /> <br />So slowly the great hot elephant hearts <br />grow full of desire, <br />and the great beasts mate in secret at last, <br />hiding their fire. <br /> <br />Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts <br />so they know at last <br />how to wait for the loneliest of feasts <br />for the full repast. <br /> <br />They do not snatch, they do not tear; <br />their massive blood <br />moves as the moon-tides, near, more near <br />till they touch in flood.<br /><br />David Herbert Lawrence<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-elephant-is-slow-to-mate/
