Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HUNTING SONG, by PAUL WHITEHEAD


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HUNTING SONG, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: The sun from the east tips the mountains with gold
Last Line: "while jocund we follow our hounds in full cry."
Subject(s): Hunting; Hunters


"The sun from the east tips the mountains with gold;
The meadows all spangled with dew-drops behold!
Hear! the lark's early matin proclaims the new day,
And the horn's cheerful summons rebukes our delay.

Chorus

With the sports of the field there's no pleasure can vie,
While jocund we follow the hounds in full cry.

Let the drudge of the town make riches his sport;
The slave of the state hunt the smiles of a court;
No care and ambition our pastime annoy,
But innocence still gives a zest to our joy.

Mankind all are hunters in various degree;
The priest hunts a living—the lawyer a fee,
The doctor a patient,—the courtier a place,
Though often, like us, he's flung out in the chase.

The cit hunts a plum—while the soldier hunts fame,
The poet a dinner—the patriot a name;
And the practised coquette, though she seems to refuse,
In spite of her airs, still her lover pursues.

Let the bold and the busy hunt glory and wealth;
All the blessing we ask is the blessing of health,
With hound and with horn through the woodlands to roam,
And, when tired abroad, find contentment at home.
With the sports of the field there's no pleasure can vie,
While jocund we follow our hounds in full cry."





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