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First Line: The morning wears a misty crown
Last Line: By god's own dext'rous hand.
Subject(s): Hunting; Mercy; Hunters


The morning wears a misty crown
Of gold, hung in the sky.
In a golden pond black rushes drown,
Tall catkins throw grey shadows down
Across my boat, in a shielding frown,
Where wait my dog and I.

A thrilling cry, though nothing seen,
This is the hunter's fun.
Where blue and gold maze into green,
In a true straight V shape come fifteen
Grey travelers, and their call rings keen.
I do not lift my gun.

I sit and watch them wing away
Into some other land.
A tapestry of gold and grey
Thrown 'cross the sky at break of day,
In mem'ry woven, e'er to stay,
By God's own dext'rous hand.





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