  Reynard the fox As he crossed the meadows at Naunton Larking, The dogs in the town all started barking, For with feet all bloody and flanks all foam, The hounds and the hunt were limping home: Limping home in the dark, dead-beaten, The hounds all rank from a fox they'd eaten, Dansey saying to Robin Dawe, "The fastest and longest I ever saw." And Robin answered, "O Tom, 'twas good, But now I feel that they did not change. We've had a run that was great and strange; And to kill in the end, at dusk, on grass. We'll turn to the Cock and take a glass, For the hounds, poor souls, are past their forces. And a gallon of ale for our poor horses, And some bits of bread for the hounds, poor things, After all they've done (for they've done like kings), Would keep them going till we get in. We had it alone from Nun's Wood Whin." Then Tom replied, "If they changed or not, There've been few runs longer and none more hot, We shall talk of to-day until we die." For with feet all bloody and flanks all foam, The hounds and the hunt were limping home. The stars grew bright in the winter sky, The wind came keen with a tang of frost, The brook was troubled for new things lost, The copse was happy for old things found, The fox came home and he went to ground. And the hunt came home and the hounds were fed, They climbed to their bench and went to bed, The horses in stable loved their straw. "Good-night, my beauties," said Robin Dawe. Then the moon came quiet and flooded full Light and beauty on clouds like wool, On a feasted fox at rest from hunting, In the beech wood grey where the brocks were grunting. Eighth colored plate Courtesy Arthur Ackermann and Son, New York The beech wood grey rose dim in the night With moonlight fallen in pools of light, The long dead leaves on the ground were rimed. A clock struck twelve and the church-bells chimed.
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