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.