Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, MY WOODCOCK, by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS



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MY WOODCOCK, by            
First Line: I stood in the ride, and the glamour
Last Line: Omitted to load!
Subject(s): Hunting; Hunters


I STOOD in the ride, and the glamour
Of autumn was gold on the trees,
While the far-away beaters' faint clamour
Was borne on the whispering breeze,
When the voices that came through the cover
With the tapping of stick upon stock,
Rang out with a roar—"Woodcock over!
Cock forward! Mark cock!"

Like a leaf of last year that is lifted
When March is in maddest of moods,
Through the tops of the beeches he drifted,
A little brown ghost of the woods:
Bombarded with passionate vigour,
He lazily dodged down the line,
And I knew, as I pressed on the trigger,
I knew he was mine!

My pulses may fade and grow duller,
My eyesight may weaken, but still
I shall see the soft pinion's warm colour,
The length of that insolent bill;
And, till age leaves me withered and one-eyed
At the ultimate end of my road,
I shall hear the click-click of the gun I'd
Omitted to load!





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