Gracefullest leaper, the dappled fox-cub

Curves over brambles with berries and buds,

Light as a bubble that flies from the tub,

Whisked by the laundry-wife out of her suds.

Wavy he comes, woolly, all at his ease,

Elegant, fashioned to foot with the deuce;

Nature's own prince of the dance: then he sees

Me, and retires as if making excuse.

Never closed minuet courtlier! Soon

Cub-hunting troops were abroad, and a yelp

Told of sure scent: ere the stroke upon noon

Reynard the younger lay far beyond help.

Wild, my poor friend, has the fate to be chased;

Civil will conquer: were 'tother 'twere worse.

Fair, by the flushed early morning embraced,

Haply you live a day longer in verse.