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- HOUND VOICE
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- BECAUSE we love bare hills and stunted trees
- And were the last to choose the settled ground,
- Its boredom of the desk or of the spade, because
- So many years companioned by a hound,
- Our voices carry; and though slumber-bound,
- Some few half wake and half renew their choice,
- Give tongue, proclaim their hidden name -- "Hound Voice."
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- The women that I picked spoke sweet and low
- And yet gave tongue. "Hound Voices' were they all.
- We picked each other from afar and knew
- What hour of terror comes to test the soul,
- And in that terror's name obeyed the call,
- And understood, what none have understood,
- Those images that waken in the blood.
- Some day we shall get up before the dawn
- And find our ancient hounds before the door,
- And wide awake know that the hunt is on;
- Stumbling upon the blood-dark track once more,
- Then stumbling to the kill beside the shore;
- Then cleaning out and bandaging of wounds,
- And chantS of victory amid the encircling hounds.
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