Mathilde Blind

Here you will find the Poem The Hunter's Moon of poet Mathilde Blind

The Hunter's Moon

The Hunter's Moon rides high, 
High o'er the close-cropped plain; 
Across the desert sky 
The herded clouds amain 
Scamper tumultuously, 
Chased by the hounding wind 
That yelps behind. 

The clamorous hunt is done, 
Warm-housed the kennelled pack; 
One huntsman rides alone 
With dangling bridle slack; 
He wakes a hollow tone, 
Far echoing to his horn 
In clefts forlorn. 

The Hunter's Moon rides low, 
Her course is nearly sped. 
Where is the panting roe? 
Where hath the wild deer fled? 
Hunter and hunted now 
Lie in oblivion deep: 
Dead or asleep.