While faintly through my withered veins once more
Leaps the triumphant thrill I knew of yore.
II.
I shot an arrow through the wood one day
In idle sport, and following where it led,
I found a doe that I had raised and fed,
Stricken, and bleeding fast her life away,
Her tender fawn transfixed beside her lay;
One random shaft two happy lives had sped.
The dry leaves rustled to my startled tread,