While all the others slept asnore In caravan and tent that night, I lay alone beside the fire; And stared into its blazing core, With eyes that would not shut or tire, Because the best of all was true, And they looked still into the light Of her eyes, burning ever bright. Within the brightest coal for me... Once more, I saw her, as she started, And glanced at me with red lips parted: And, as she looked, the frightened hare Had fled her eyes; and, merrily, She smiled, with fine teeth flashing white, As though she, too, were happy-hearted... Then she had trembled suddenly, And dropped her eyes, as that fat man Stepped from the shadow of the van, And joined the circle, as the pot Was lifted off, and, piping-hot, The supper steamed in wooden bowls. Yet, she had hardly touched a bite: And never raised her eyes all night To mine again: but on the coals, As I sat staring, she had stared-- The black curls, shining round her head From under the red kerchief, tied So nattily beneath her chin-- And she had stolen off to bed Quite early, looking dazed and scared. Then, all agape and sleepy-eyed, Ere long the others had turned in: And I was rid of that fat man, Who slouched away to his own van. And now, before her van, I lay, With sleepless eyes, awaiting day: And, as I gazed upon the glare, I heard, behind, a gentle stir: And, turning round, I looked on her Where she stood on the little stair Outside the van, with listening air-- And, in her eyes, the hunted hare... And then, I saw her slip away, A bundle underneath her arm, Without a single glance at me. I lay a moment wondering, My heart a-thump like anything, Then, fearing she should come to harm, I rose, and followed speedily Where she had vanished in the night. And, as she heard my step behind, She started, and stopt dead with fright: Then blundered on as if struck blind: And now as I caught up with her, Just as she took the moorland track, I saw the hare’s eyes, big and black... She made as though she’d double back... But, when she looked into my eyes, She stood quite still and did not stir... And, picking up her fallen pack, I tucked it ’neath my arm; and she Just took her luck quite quietly. As she must take what chance might come, And would not have it otherwise, And walked into the night with me, Without a word across the fells.