Wind thy horn, my hunter boy,
And leave thy lute's inglorious sighs;
Hunting is the hero's joy,
Till war his nobler game supplies.
Hark! the hound-bells ringing sweet,
While hunters shout and the, woods repeat,
Hilli-ho! Hilli-ho!
Wind again thy cheerful horn,
Till echo, faint with answering, dies:
Burn, bright torches, burn till morn,
And lead us where the wild boar lies.
Hark! the cry, "He's found, he's found,"
While hill and valley our shouts resound.
Hilli-ho! Hilli-ho!
Wind Thy Horn, My Hunter Boy
Thomas Moore
(1)
Poem topics: hero, hunting, joy, war, wild, sweet, bright, repeat, valley, game, hunter, wind, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about Wind Thy Horn, My Hunter Boy poem by Thomas Moore
Best Poems of Thomas Moore