The last time they did any harm to anyone was probably thousands 
    of years ago;--therefore we catch them and cut them up into coats,
Their frolicsomeness, too, sliced up by contemptuous human analysis;
Yes, through the binoculars of the human in the dinghy, like a text
    beneath some mad scientist's magnifying-glass
The seals as they cavort, tend to scan like some pre-prepared,
    allegedly amusing, and gloriously convenient gloss which only 
    tells us

That the weak are only here on this our sad planet to be hurt.

The last time they did any harm to anyone was probably thousands 
    of years ago;--therefore we find them in the circus, like 
    purportedly hilarious characters, forced by us to be terribly 
    funny
On multicolored stands, noses pressed up against old auto-horns,
Falling all over themselves, and performing national anthems such
    as "God Bless America"; "God Save The King"; and, sometimes,
    occasionally still, "The Internationale"
--Half-Starved for a half-rotten fish, and the target
Of our ancient disrespect, secret loathing, and  finally outright
    public contempt

Since the weak are only here on this our sad planet to be hurt.

Gaze, gaze again, oh Humans of Goodwill, upon more of what
    even our children typically can see--
Examine, for example, the sight of a seal coming out of its
    little white hut in a crowded city zoo; and then, as it raises 
    its remaining nose to sniff the city air
Slipping on a banana-peel; and, oh yes, let's examine all the
    uproarious reactions to that, as the creature falls

For as long as the weak are only here on this our sad planet
    to be hurt.