His gaze through the bars forever going by him <br />Has grown so dulled it takes in nothing else. <br />To him it seems a thousand bars go by him, <br />That behind the thousand bars there is nothing else. <br /> <br />The soft tread of those strong and supple paces, <br />Turning in the smallest circle, round and round, <br />Is like a dance of strength about a center <br />In which some mighty will stands stunned and bound. <br /> <br />At times, though, the curtain over the pupil <br />Will lift. Then an image passes in soundlessly, <br />Passes through the tense stillness of the limbs- <br />And in the heart, ceases to be.<br /><br />John Hall Wheelock<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-panther-4/
