The Hunnter’s Even-Song

The Hunnter’s Even-Song

THE plain with still and wand’ring feet,

And gun full-charged,I tread,

And hov’ring see thine image sweet,

Thine image dear,o’er head.

In gentle silence thou dost fare

Through field and valley dear;

But doth my fleeting image ne’er

To thy mind’s eye appear?

His image,who,by grief oppress’d,

Roams through the world forlorn[212]，

And wanders on from east to west,

Because from thee he’s torn?

When I would think of none but thee,

Mine eyes the moon survey;

A calm repose then steals o’er me,

But how,’twere hard to say.

1776.