The Duke A-Hunting
("E'en then would be some stooping" - Robert Browning)
Today we step out for his sport and pleasure
across the wide estate, trout-streamed and wooded,
The Duke calls for his pets, his feathered treasure,
and cadge-boys bring the birds, gold-belled and hooded.
My lord extends his leathered arm, his eyes
as bright as gold-clasped gems that stud his fist.
He scans a perch and picks the sleekest prize,
a full-summed peregrine to grace his wrist.
She cuts the morning wind, a grey-fletched arrow
dispatched to strike the prey. She stoops, kills cleanly,
then mantles jealous wings to claim the sparrow.
A merlin stirs and snites. He eyes it keenly.
"Hush, sweetheart, hush", he whispers, maiden-mild,
and strokes it like rich silk, a coin, a child.
--Maz
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