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Poems (Hazlett-Bevis)/The Hunter's Song

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4511065Poems — The Hunter's SongSophia Courtoulde Hazlett-Bevis
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.