The Big Book of Animal Stories
Page 19
P-L-O-P!
He’s in the goldfish bowl again,
Swimming round and round and looking very tired.
In five minutes’ time I must go to bed
And if you don’t get this beetle
To look after himself, who will?
Besides, it makes the goldfish nervous.
To the Indian Foresters
You are the quiet men who do not boast
Although you’ve done much more than most
To make this land a sea of green
From here to far Cape Comorin.
Without your help to Nature’s thrust,
This land would be a bowl of dust.
A land without its forest wealth
Must suffer a decline in health,
For herbs and plants all need green cover
Before they help the sick recover.
And we need trees to hold together
Beasts, and birds of every feather,
And leaves to help the air smell sweet;
All this and more is no mean feat.
Dear foresters, you have not sought for fame or favour,
Yours has been a love of labour.
Our thanks! Instead of desert sand
You’ve given us this green and growing land.
(Composed and read to a gathering of young forest officers at the Forest Research Institute, on 10 April 2004)
Tigers Forever
May there always be tigers
In the jungles and tall grass.
May the tiger’s roar be heard,
May his thunder
Be known in the land.
At the forest pool, by moonlight,
May he drink and raise his head,
Scenting the night wind.
May he crouch low in the grass
When the herdsmen pass,
And slumber in dark caverns
When the sun is high.
May there always be tigers.
But not so many, that one of them
Might be tempted to come into my room
In search of a meal!
Listen!
Listen to the night wind in the trees,
Listen to the summer grass singing;
Listen to the time that’s tripping by,
And the dawn dew falling.
Listen to the moon as it climbs the sky,
Listen to the pebbles humming;
Listen to the mist in the trembling leaves,
And the silence calling.