300
Some thirst-stricken Hunter—
Swarth priest of the wood,
Around thee hath strewn them,
In fond gratitude.
Orb of the green waste,
Open and clear,
Friend of the Hunter,
Loved of the deer;
Brilliantly breaking
Beneath the blue sky,
Gladdening the leaflets
That tremulous sigh;
Star of my wandering,
Symbol of love,
Lead me to dream of
The Fountain above!
