Roar Of The Lion Poem by Wakefield Mahon

Roar Of The Lion



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In the jungle, the lion-king roars
All that he surveys is his own
Still, the panther, through the jungle, tore

A hunter lies in horrid gore
The last to invade his throne
In the jungle, the lion-king roars

The vines encircle the darkened moor
Only a fool would venture alone
Still, the panther, through the jungle, tore

White daggers for teeth has the carnivore
To make but splinters of the strongest bone
In the jungle, the lion-king roars

The lion has kept watch since days of yore
With patience in waiting unknown
Still, the panther, through the jungle, tore

Then into battle the two of them soar
The loser letting out a moan
In the jungle, the lion-king roars
Still, the panther, through the jungle, tore

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