Poems in Dedication to Whillip

A sampling of poems from a hand-written book of poetry placed upon an altar of Whillip, the God of Nature.

Two bears met in a misty glen
One as large as several men.
The other, however, was just a cub,
More appetizing than the usual grub.

The former reared back as the cub moved to retreat
But upon the titan's chest, feeding on its breast meat,
Was a foul, twisted creature, unnatural in all ways.
And it's here that the cub finally met the giant's gaze.

Pleading, not hunger, could be seen in its eyes.
Once a proud beast, now for help it cries.
Would the cub brave fang and claw to set the titan free?
I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

Far over Elf-land poets stretch their sway,
And win their dearest crowns beyond the goal
Of their own conscious purpose; they control
With gossamer threads wide-flown our fancy's play,
And so our action. On my walk to-day,
A wallowing bear begged clumsily his toll,
When straight a vision rose of Atta Troll,
And scenes ideal witched mine eyes away.
'Merci, Mossieu!' the astonished bear-ward cried,
Grateful for thrice his hope to me, the slave
Of partial memory, seeing at his side
A bear immortal. The glad dole I gave
Was none of mine; poor Heine o'er the wide
Atlantic welter stretched it from his grave.

[Attribution: The Dancing Bear by James Russell Lowell]