The Death of the Hare

    I have pointed out the yelling pack，

    The hare leap to the wood，

    And when I pass a compliment

    Rejoice as lover should

    At the drooping of an eye，

    At the mantling of the blood.

    Then suddenly my heart is wrung

    By her distracted air

    And I remember wildness lost

    And after， swept from there，

    Am set down standing in the wood

    At the death of the hare.