As the shy Hind, the soft-eyed gentle Brute, Now moves, now stops, approaching by degrees At length emerges from the shelt'ring Trees, Lur'd by her Hunter with the shepherd's Flute Whose music travelling on the twilight Breeze, When all beside was mute, She oft had heard unharm'd and ever loves to hear, She, fearful Beast! but that no sound of Fear. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HAUNTED HOUSES by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SEAWEED by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW DOROTHY IN THE GARRET by JOHN TOWNSEND TROWBRIDGE DEJECTION by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE AUTHOR'S LAST WORDS TO HIS STUDENTS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE KIRK OF LAMINGTON by ROBERT BURNS TO MISS FERRIER; ENCLOSING THE ELEGY ON SIR J. H. BLAIR by ROBERT BURNS |