Again ’twas dawn: that hunter’s gaze
Was wand’ring o’er a wide expanse
Of inland lake, half hid in haze
That waved beneath the morning’s glance.
The circling wood, so still and deep
Its sombre hush, seemed yet asleep;
Save when at intervals from tree
A lone bird woke its minstrelsy,
Or flitting off from spray to spray
’Mid glittering dew pursued its way.