The Bears

Wild bears are found all over,

From Northern lands to South,

But largest, strongest, where 'tis cold

And fiercest farthest North.



All bears are fond of honey,

Of berries, too, and roots;

They hug or squeeze their prey to death,

As this their nature suits.



They mate in June-y weather;

Their little ones are cubs;

They sadly mourn when mates are killed,

You'd almost hear their sobs.



They'll try to feed a cub

That's lying cold and dead,

And will not flee, but stand and take

The fatal knife instead.















They sleep through winter-time,

But prowl in wildest storms,

With hope to find some creature killed,

Or struck with death's alarms.



The bears are white, or black,

Or brown or grizzly gray,

The white 'mong polar snows are found,

Where half the year is day.



Their fur is used for robes,

For coats, sometimes a muff,--

Their meat is prized by some as food,

While some would call it "stuff."







They nimbly climb a tree,

But "back down," for their frame

Is made so lungs would forward press,

If they head-foremost, came.





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