The scientists removed their coats and hats
And climbed upon an antiseptic stage
A toothless lion suffered in his cage,
Ignoring them. The men of science sat.
One breathed an introductory gasp,
Stood up and fastened glasses to his nose,
And told the crowd-before he grew verbose
The Life Elixir lay within their grasp.
“We hold this meeting here today
So you may see this ancient lion fed
The Life Elixir.” As an afterthought he said,
“It has a bitter taste.” He told them of the way
The scientists poured liquids into vats
For years uncountable; examined sperms,
Blood, sputum, knee-jerk, heartbeat, germs;
Invented baffling_mazes where white rats
Learned methods of success or went insane;
Experimented with the brains of larks:
Filled notebooks with a million puzzling marks;
And doped retarded monkeys with cocaine.
“The years went by in study without rest
In search of the Elixir that would bring
Eternal life to man and beast; and then one Spring,”
He said, “we were rewarded with success.”
This ended his remarks. Applause.
The men of science went within the cage
And fed the lion, who had reached an age
Of weariness and trust. (They had, however, dulled his claws.)
The beast on whom the remedy was tried
Watched them file out with tolerant disdain,
Yawned at the crowd and shook his mane,
Grew cross, dozed fitfully, and died.
Silence; and then a thousand metronomes
Ticked violently, the air blurred, people hissed
And took their leave; some mumbled, “Fake.” The scientists
Returned, annoyed and puzzled, to their homes
Where they wrote monographs on every phase
Of the affair, constructed graphs and charts and plans,
Cut up the lion, placed its parts in pans,
And did not venture on the streets for days.
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