Master went a-hunting,
            When the leaves were falling;
      We saw him on the bridle path,
            We heard him gaily calling.
'Oh master, master, come you back,
For I have dreamed a dream so black!'
      A glint of steel from bit and heel,
            The chestnut cantered faster;
      A red flash seen amid the green,
            And so good-bye to master.

      Master came from hunting,
            Two silent comrades bore him;
      His eyes were dim, his face was white,
            The mare was led before him.
'Oh, master, master, is it thus
That you have come again to us?'
      I held my lady's ice-cold hand,
            They bore the hurdle past her;
      Why should they go so soft and slow?
            It matters not to master.