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Small Poem About The Hounds And The Hares

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Written by: Lisel Mueller | Biography
| Poems
 | Quotes |
 After the kill, there is the feast.
And toward the end, when the dancing subsides and the young have sneaked off somewhere, the hounds, drunk on the blood of the hares, begin to talk of how soft were their pelts, how graceful their leaps, how lovely their scared, gentle eyes.


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