Classic Poem

I would be the bounding deer
That from her breasted shaft doth bleed;
Little hare whose hunted leer
Dying, sees her weep the deed.
I would be the bow-wing'd hern
That from her pet hawk dives in fear,
Red fox crouching in the fern
When the merry pack they cheer.
Anything I'd do or be
So she would but follow me!
Follow me!
Even unto the death I'd flee,
So she would but follow me!