The Forest Greeting
Good hunting!—aye, good hunting,Wherever the forests call;But ever a heart beats hot with fear,And what of the birds that fall?
Good hunting!—aye, good hunting,Wherever the north winds blow;But what of the stag that calls for his mate?And what of the wounded doe?
Good hunting!—aye, good hunting;And ah! we are bold and strong;But our triumph call through the forest hallIs a brother’s funeral song.
For we are brothers ever,Panther and bird and bear;Man and the weakest that fear his face,Born to the nest or lair.
Yes, brothers, and who shall judge us?Hunters and game are we;But who gave the right for me to smite?Who boasts when he smiteth me?
Good hunting!—aye, good hunting,And dim is the forest track;But the sportsman Death comes striding on:Brothers, the way is black.