Classic Poem

Deer are on the mountain, deer!
A hunter spied one browsing near
And the little girl who lives below
Saw beside her cabbage-field a running doe.
But I have never seen them though I used to wait
And wander, and come home weary and late.
No, I have never seen them stand a-quiver,
Then turn and bound and go,
Nor have I started as they loomed above me,
Sudden, bright, upon a hill,
Nor turned to find them, kneeling, breathless, still.
But now — at last — I know you love me,
For now at last I know
How the noble deer leaps, how leaps the doe!
O I lie locked and lone and white
In my little room all night
And toss and laugh and have no peace of mind,
For deer are plunging through the thickets and they stop and sniff the wind,
They break and dash for cover with the hounds far behind.
Swift runs the deer and close to him the doe —
Now they have found the glen, now they are crouching low —
I have never seen them, but now — at last — I know. . . .