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