As I Went Through The Marshes A Doe Sprang Out Of The Corn And Flashed Up The Hill-Side Leaving Her Fawn. On The Sky-Line She Moved Round To Watch, She Pricked A Fine Black Blotch On The Sky. I Looked At Her And Felt Her Watching; I Became A Strange Being. Still, I Had My Right To Be There With Her, Her Nimble Shadow Trotting Along The Sky-Line, She Put Back Her Fine, Level-Balanced Head. And I Knew Her. Ah Yes, Being Male, Is Not My Head Hard-Balanced, Antlered? Are Not My Haunches Light? Has She Not Fled On The Same Wind With Me? Does Not My Fear Cover Her Fear? Irschenhausen