Poems (Hazlett-Bevis)/The Hunter's Song
The Hunter's Song.
Oh, high on the brow of yon rough, jutting crag, I have made me a home near the haunts of the stag; Where the wild billows roar, And the cataracts pour From the height of the mountains, o'er and o'er.
Where deep in the wilds of the forests, I see No footstep of man, but is traversed by me; Where the serpent's keen hiss, And chasm and abyss Have charms for me, full of bliss, of bliss.
I love this my home, my wild, rude home, And would not exchange for the ruins of Rome; Here the wild goat feeds, And the chamois speeds O'er the rock, to his mate, where he leads, he leads.
No, I would not exchange this weird home of mine, For a palace of gems on the banks of the Rhine, Tho' dazzling it be. My home's by the sea, Where the bold eagle soars, and I'm free, I'm free.