Yakamochi and His Hawk

From friends and kin apart,
In lonely wilds I pined,
And solace to my heart,
A-hawking sought to find.
Ihasé's moor towards
Where the bush-clover grows,
Over the Autumn sward
Gaily my party goes.
Men through the wooded dells
Beating for wild-fowl press,
While my hawk's silver bells
Tinkle with eagerness.
With that sweet music near,
Gazing on wide-spread view,
Gone are my musings drear,
Gladness is born anew!
Now in our chamber here,
Where our twin-pillows lie,
My dappled falcon dear
Perches his master nigh.
Here dainty bits I bring,
Here smooth his mottled wing!