Article: Actaeon.(Poem)

 
ACTAEON 
 
   The hounds, you know them all by name. 
   You fostered them from purblind whelps 
   At their dam's teats, and you have come 
   To know the music of their yelps: 
 
   High-strung Anthee, the brindled bitch, 
   The blue-tick coated Philomel, 
   And freckled Chloe, who would fetch 
   A pretty price if you would sell-- 
 
   All fleet of foot, and swift to scent, 
   Inexorable once on the track, 
   Like angry words you might have meant, 
   But do not mean, and can't take back. 
 
   There was a time when you would brag 
   How they would hay and rend apart 
  ...

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