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Rh Bunny sought the freer air

From the columns closing in,

From the strange, confusing din;

Till he hopped below the hill,

And saw lying close and still,

Men with muskets in their hands;

Never Bunny understands

That hypocrisy of sleep

In the vigils grim they keep,

As recumbent on that spot,

They elude the level shot.

One, a grave and wearied man,

Thinking of his wife and child

Far beyond the Rapidan,

By the Androscoggin wild,

Felt the little rabbit creep,

Nestling by his arm and side.

Wakened from strategic sleep

To that soft appeal replied;

Drew him to his blackened breast,

And—but you have guessed the rest.