He gazed at the cube with tearful eyes,
He kissed its bulging sides;
The cube was from the paradise
And bounded by demise.
The rat, still cuddled up in fright,
Transplanted by its care,
The wardens, with their garments white,
These sacred blossoms wear.
The lab rat gave, in tears and pain,
The cube he most did love:
He knew he'd find it all again
Through portals from above.
"My Lord hath need of this salvation,"
The Reaper said, and smiled:
"Dear slip of your imagination,
The rescue of your mind."
O, not in cruelty, not in wrath,
The Reaper came that day;
An angel visited this path,
And took the cube away