It all grew in sympathy,
As he began the day,
Unsuspecting vanity,
The scene was set for play.
Lily, the prize, perfection,
Teased without a care,
The lion made close inspection,
But was held to wonder there.
The greatest king of all,
Was brought to a cub\'s incline,
He lamented with a purring call,
As the lily turned divine.
He\'d never seen such beauty,
In one fond scene so pure,
As king he\'d shunned his duty,
To the trapping and the lure.
He grew impatient at the water\'s side,
And plunged to gain his own,
He thought the beauty that he spied,
Was his, and his alone,
But the lily was no more,
And the lion stood supreme,
And as he wandered to the shore,
He faded with his dream,
Forgive, white lily, forgive the king,
For lion\'s are deaf when lilies sing.