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Slowly he turns himself round and round, Lifting his paws with care, Twisting his head in a sort of bow To the people watching there. His keeper, grinding a wheezy tune, Jerks at the iron chain, And the dusty, patient bear goes through His solemn tricks again. Only his eyes are still and fixed In a wide, bewildered stare, More like a child's lost in woods at night Than the eyes of a big brown bear. |