And waving his dusty beaver hat,
     He cheered across the chase-filled water,
     And clapt his arm about his daughter,
     And gave to Joan a courteous hug,
     And kiss that, like a stubborn plug
     From generous vats in vastness rounded,
     The inner wealth and spirit sounded: 
     Eagerly pointing South, where, lo,
     The daintiest, fleetest-footed doe
     Led o’er the fields and thro’ the furze
     Beyond:  her lively delicate ears
     Prickt up erect, and in her track
     A dappled lengthy-striding pack.

     Scarce had they cast eyes upon her,
     When every heart was wagered on her,
     And half in dread, and half delight,
     They watched her lovely bounding flight;
     As now across the flashing green,
     And now beneath the stately trees,
     And now far distant in the dene,
     She headed on with graceful ease: 
     Hanging aloft with doubled knees,
     At times athwart some hedge or gate;
     And slackening pace by slow degrees,
     As for the foremost foe to wait. 
     Renewing her outstripping rate
     Whene’er the hot pursuers neared,
     By garden wall and paled estate,
     Where clambering gazers whooped and cheered. 
     Here winding under elm and oak,
     And slanting up the sunny hill: 
     Splashing the water here like smoke
     Among the mill-holms round the mill.

     And—­’Let her go; she shows her game,
     My Nancy girl, my pet and treasure!’
     The farmer sighed:  his eyes with pleasure
     Brimming:  ’’Tis my daughter’s name,
     My second daughter lying yonder.’ 
     And Willie’s eye in search did wander,
     And caught at once, with moist regard,
     The white gleams of a grey churchyard. 
     ’Three weeks before my girl had gone,
     And while upon her pillows propped,
     She lay at eve; the weakling fawn —
     For still it seems a fawn just dropt
     A se’nnight—­to my Nancy’s bed
     I brought to make my girl a gift: 
     The mothers of them both were dead: 
     And both to bless it was my drift,
     By giving each a friend; not thinking
     How rapidly my girl was sinking. 
     And I remember how, to pat
     Its neck, she stretched her hand so weak,
     And its cold nose against her cheek
     Pressed fondly:  and I fetched the mat
     To make it up a couch just by her,
     Where in the lone dark hours to lie: 
     For neither dear old nurse nor I
     Would any single wish deny her. 
     And there unto the last it lay;
     And in the pastures cared to play
     Little or nothing:  there its meals
     And milk I brought:  and even now
     The creature such affection feels
     For that old room that, when and how,
     ’Tis strange to mark, it slinks and steals
     To get there, and all