While in the thicket near the rabbit glides,
And as his foot falls on the withered leaves,
A rustling sound in the dim woods is heard,
Rousing the chewitt and the piping jay,
And startling from the dead pines naked top,
With hoarsest cry, the reconnoitering crow.
The meadow-lark, with yellow breast, alights
On the old field, and sings her favorite strain—
A clear harmonious song. The Hunter Boy—
A little urchin stealing by his side,