Post by George J. DanceThe Lonely Hunter
Green branches, green branches, I see you
beckon; I follow!
Sweet is the place you guard, there in the
rowan-tree hollow.
There he lies in the darkness, under the frail
white flowers,
Heedless at last, in the silence, of these sweet
midsummer hours.
But sweeter, it may be, the moss whereon he
is sleeping now,
And sweeter the fragrant flowers that may
And sweeter the shady place deep in an Eden
hollow
Wherein he dreams I am with him---and,
dreaming, whispers, "Follow!"
Green wind from the green-gold branches,
what is the song you bring?
What are all songs for me, now, who no more
care to sing?
Deep in the heart of Summer, sweet is life to
me still,
But my heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on
a lonely hill.
Green is that hill and lonely, set far in a
shadowy place;
White is the hunter's quarry, a lost-loved hu-
O hunting heart, shall you find it, with arrow
of failing breath,
Led o'er a green hill lonely by the shadowy
hound of Death?
Green branches, green branches, you sing of
a sorrow olden,
But now it is midsummer weather, earth-
Here I stand and I wait, here in the rowan-
tree hollow,
But never a green leaf whispers, "Follow, oh,
Follow, Follow!"
O never a green leaf whispers, where the
O never a song I hear now, where one was
wont to sing
Here in the heart of Summer, sweet is life to
me still,
But my heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on
a lonely hill.