Hunting-Song
To me no pastime sweeter seems
Than through the woods to go,
Where throstle sings and falcon screams,
Where leap the hart and roe.
O would my love a throstle were
And sang on yonder spray;
Or, like a roe, came bounding fair—
I'd hunt her all the day!
Than through the woods to go,
Where throstle sings and falcon screams,
Where leap the hart and roe.
O would my love a throstle were
And sang on yonder spray;
Or, like a roe, came bounding fair—
I'd hunt her all the day!
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