By Josh Quong
The hart which roams the forests and the fields,
(Accompanied by his eager brethren)
Delights in browsing on the farmers’ yields,
The velvet antlers their fruits do strengthen.
In open meadows joyous pleasure be
For slumbered stag near silent swamp and break.
And revelry in rows of rack rubbed trees
Lead travelers to celebratory scrapes.
But bachelor bonds will break; the tines unbind
Logic in the blood of every fellow,
And fling of bow destroys mad fling with hind
When Diana, Cupid masked, snipes the arrow.
Though capital the hunt for love may seem,
Fellowship is just as equal a need.