I sprang out naked

Into eager dawn.

The sun had not yet scaled the eastern ridge:

And still the vales were hidden from my eyes

By snowy wreaths of swathing mist:

But, high upon a scar

That jutted sheer and stark,

In cold grey light,

There stood an antelope,

With lifted muzzle snuffing the fresh day;

When scenting me afar,

He plunged into the mist

With one quick, startled bound:

And, from the smoking vapour,

Arose a gentle pattering,

As, down the rocky trail,

The unseen herd went trotting

Upon their leader's heels.

And from the clear horizon

The exultant sun sprang god-like:

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