A Fox in the Woods
Dashing left, dashing right.
Through the trees, through the night.
The sound is near, the woods are hushed.
Barks ring out, flowers crushed.
Sounds of the noble hunt flow
and as the sounds of the dog grow
the fox runs since its all he knows
and in the end he hides below.
The sounds grow low and distant
and alas, the fox is free from the persistence
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