THE POET SHEPHERD.

Down in the vale the lazy sheep

Are roaming at their will,

But I would be away to weep

Upon the windy hill,

For Summer's song is in my heart,

Her kiss is on my brow,

As here I kneel alone, apart,

To consecrate our vow.

Ah, doubly poor the gift shall be

That links my soul with hers,

For she has given her all to me

While I can give but tears!

Pan and Æolus: Poems · 第 72 / 98 题