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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=115721" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Song (1)</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=115721" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">We know where deepest lies the snow,<br>And where the frost-winds keenest blow,<br>O'er every mountain's brow,<br>We long have known and learnt to bear<br>The wandering outlaw's toil and care,<br>But where we late were hunted, there<br>Our foes are hunted now.<br>We have their princely homes, and they<br>To our wild haunts are chased away,<br>Dark woods, and desert caves.<br>And we can range from hill to hill,<br>And chase our vanquished victors still;<br>Small respite will they find until<br>They slumber in their graves.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=115721" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But I would rather be the hare,<br>That crouching in its sheltered lair<br>Must start at every sound;<br>That forced from cornfields waving wide<br>Is driven to seek the bare hillside,<br>Or in the tangled copse to hide,<br>Than be the hunter's hound.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Anne+Bront%C3%AB">Anne Brontë</a></strong></div>

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