There came a mercer wonder-fine,
With velvet cap and gaberdine;
For all his ships, for all his trade,
He could not buy the franklin’s maid.

There came an archer bold and true,
With bracer guard and stave of yew;
His purse was light, his jerkin frayed —
Haro, alas! the franklin’s maid!

Oh, some have laughed and some have cried,
And some have scoured the countryside;
But off they ride through wood and glade,
The bowman and the franklin’s maid.

THE OLD HUNTSMAN

There’s a keen and grim old huntsman
   On a horse as white as snow;
Sometimes he is very swift
   And sometimes he is slow. 
But he never is at fault,
   For he always hunts at view
And he rides without a halt
      After you.

The huntsman’s name is Death,
   His horse’s name is Time;
He is coming, he is coming
   As I sit and write this rhyme;
He is coming, he is coming,
   As you read the rhyme I write;
You can hear the hoofs’ low drumming
      Day and night.

You can hear the distant drumming
   As the clock goes tick-a-tack,
And the chiming of the hours
   Is the music of his pack. 
You may hardly note their growling
   Underneath the noonday sun,
But at night you hear them howling
      As they run.

And they never check or falter
   For they never miss their kill;
Seasons change and systems alter,
   But the hunt is running still. 
Hark! the evening chime is playing,
   O’er the long grey town it peals;
Don’t you hear the death-hound baying
      At your heels?

Where is there an earth or burrow? 
   Where a cover left for you? 
A year, a week, perhaps to-morrow
   Brings the Huntsman’s death halloo! 
Day by day he gains upon us,
   And the most that we can claim
Is that when the hounds are on us
      We die game.

And somewhere dwells the Master,
   By whom it was decreed;
He sent the savage huntsman,
   He bred the snow-white steed. 
These hounds which run for ever,
   He set them on your track;
He hears you scream, but never
      Calls them back.

He does not heed our suing,
   We never see his face;
He hunts to our undoing,
   We thank him for the chase. 
We thank him and we flatter,
   We hope—­because we must —
But have we cause?  No matter! 
      Let us trust!