The Death of the Hare

    I have pointed¹ out the yelling pack，

    The hare leap to the wood，

    And when I pass a compliment

    Rejoice as lover should

    At the drooping² of an eye，

    At the mantling³ of the blood.

    Then suddenly my heart is wrung⁴

    By her distracted air

    And I remember wildness lost

    And after， swept from there，

    Am set down standing⁵ in the wood

    At the death of the hare.