Hunter boy
Love is a hunter boy,
Who makes young hearts his prey.
And in his nets of joy,
Ensnares them night and day.
In vain, concealed they lie,
Love tracks them everywhere.
In vain, aloft they fly,
Love shoots them flying there.
And ‘tis his joy most sweet,
At early dawn to trace
The print of Beauty’s feet
And give the trembler chase.
As if through virgin snow,
He tracks her footsteps fair,
How sweet for Love to know,
None went before him there.
Irish folklore
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