The Golden Stag

O hungry hearted ones, sharp-limbed, keen-eyed,

Let me have place!

I too would ride

On your fantastic chase.

Your hunger is a silver hunting horn,

I heard it sweep

The frozen, peaceful morn:

Its note bit me from sleep.

I will ride with you, hunters, even I,

Toward a far hill

To see the golden stag against the sky

Uncaptured still.