Th W H（1 / 1）

the wounded hare

huan an! curse on thy barb&039;ro art,

and bsted be thy urder-aig eye;

ay never pity othe thee with a sigh,

nor ever pleasure gd thy cruel heart!

go live, poor wand&039;rer of the wood and field!

the bitter little that of life reas:

no ore the thickeng brakes and verdant ps

to thee a ho, or food, or pasti yield

seek, angled wretch, pce of wonted rest,

no ore of rest, but now thy dyg bed!

the shelterg rhes whistlg o&039;er thy head,

the ld earth with thy bloody bo prest

perhaps a other&039;s anguish adds its woe;

the pyful pair crowd fondly by thy side;

ah! helpless nurslgs, who will now provide

that life a other only can bestow!

oft as by dg nith i, g, wait

the ber eve, or hail the cheerful dawn,

i&039;ll iss thee sportg o&039;er the dewy wn,

and curse the ruffian&039;s ai, and ourn thy hapless fate