THE QUARRY

You hunted me with all the pack,

Too blind, too blind, to see

By no wild hope of force or greed

Could you make sure of me.

And like a phantom through the glades,

With tender breast aglow,

The goddess in me laughed to hear

Your horns a-roving go.

She laughed to think no mortal ever

By dint of mortal flesh

The very Cause that was the Hunt

One moment could enmesh:

That though with captive limbs I lay,

Stilled breath and vanquished eyes,

He that hunts Love with horse and hound

Hunts out his heart and eyes.