SONGS OF CHILDHOOD: 1901
"Huntsman and horn, huntsman and horn,
Shall scour your heaths and coverts lorn,
Braying 'em shrill and clear, O;
But lone and still
Shall lift each hill,
Each valley wan and sere, O.
" Ride up you may, ride down you may,
Lonely or trooped, by night or day,
My hound shall haunt you ever:
Bird, beast, and game
Shall dread the same,
The wild fish of your river."
Her cheek burns angry as the rose,
Her eye with wrath and pity flows:
He gazes fierce and round, O—
"Dear Lord!" he says,
"What loveliness
To waste upon a hound, O.
"I'd give my stags, my hills and dales,
My stormcocks and my nightingales
To have undone this deed, O;
For deep beneath
My heart is death
Which for her love doth bleed, O."
He wanders up, he wanders down,
On foot, a-horse, by night and noon:
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