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I was a stricken deer, that left the herd
I was a stricken deer, that left the herd Long since: with many an arrow deep infix’d My panting side was charged, when I withdrew, To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. There was I found by One who had himself Been hurt by the archers. In his side he bore, And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars. With gentle force soliciting the darts, He drew them forth, and heal’d, and bade me live. Since then, with few associates, in remote And silent woods I wander, far from those My former partners of the peopled scene; With few associates, not wishing more.
I was a wounded deer that left my group long ago, Long ago, with many arrows deeply embedded in me. My side was heaving when I pulled away, To find a peaceful death in faraway shadows. There, I was discovered by someone who was also hurt, Who bore wounds from the archers in his side. And in his hands and feet, he had cruel scars. With gentle strength, he removed the arrows, He took them out, healed me, and told me to live. Since then, I wander with few companions in isolated, Quiet woods, far from those I once knew, My previous companions in the crowded world; With few companions, and I do not desire more.