I loved to look upon him,
The Hunter near the Way.
So strong his arm and long his bow
And so bashful of the Day.
His courage never failed him
For he held his mace so high
And glared at the Bull in the River
And ruled the whole breadth of the sky.
As a girl, young and silly,
I oft dreamed of being the Maid.
And meeting, one nighttime afternoon,
The Hunter, in a starry glade.
And we would love ‘pon sight
And marry in a cloud of joy.
What strange and daring dreams
A little girl may employ.
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