My heart is with the hunted fox
And hunted hare in briary tunnel.
The autumn leaves are blown, the rocks
Echo the hounds unleashed from kennel.
My heart is with the hunted bird
Blown south along a windy lake,
Who may not rest, from flight allured
To death within the glittering brake.
For I have known their fear, the lean
Invisible fear in the tall grass;
And gaunt hounds voiceless and unseen
Can move me as they pass.
I am pursued down every path
Filled with strange terror, dumbly driven;
Having no knowledge by what wrath,
And no sure hope of haven.