When I was weary of toiling
I put on a beggar's clothes,
Borrowed a lute of the tinker,
And garnished my cap with a rose,
Left all the lands behind me
Far as ever I could
And followed the track of the Tiger
Into the thick of the wood.
For the feet of the Tiger pass
Where no man ever has trod.
The lair of the Tiger is blessed.
Its place is the place of God.
The stars turned softly in heaven;
The moon was a horn of dew.
The grasses trembled in music
On paths that the wild things knew.
I walked in the ways of the Tiger, --
I, with a rose and a lute,
But I feared not the fangs of the Tiger
Nor shrank at the white owl's hoot.
For the feet of the Tiger pass
Where evil never has trod.
The ways of the Tiger are blessed.
His home is the home of God.
I heard a sweet bell in the forest
When faint leaves whispered of dark,
Followed, and found in the woodland
A chimney, a smoke, a spark.
And I thought: Is he at the fireside,
Tiger's master and mine,
Warming his feet at the coals,
Nodding over his wine?
For the feet of the Tiger rest
Where harm's foot never has trod.
He has gone in the walks of peace.
His looks are lifted to God.
I knocked, for the door was mute,
And who should be waiting there
But the long-lost Queen of the Faeries,
Braiding her golden hair.
The Faery smiled down from the window
And opened the casement bars.
She loosened her hair in the shadow
And shook out a million stars.
And I thought: Oh, the claws of the Tiger
Are sheathed, and the Peace of God
Rests on this house, and beauty
Walks where the Tiger has trod.
And then was the latchstring lifted.
There were the lovely three, --
God, and the Queen, and the Tiger,
And God's hand welcomed me.
The Tiger slept on the hearthstone.
The Faery gave me her ring.
My rose began to blossom;
My lute began to sing.
It sang how the ways of the Tiger
Led me to beauty and God,
To the door of the hut of the Faery
By paths men never had trod.
-Donald Davidson
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