A Pastoral Song on Sheep

THEY throng in beauty on the land
    of grassy glades and dewy dales,
and all that's best of tamed and tanned
    meets in their aspect and their tails;
thus mellowed to that tender hand
    which Shepherd to mild glen compels.

One fleece the more, one spot the less,
    had half-revered the shearless grace
which wreathes in every woolen tress
    or softly brightens o'er their face,
where eyes serenely sweet express
    how pure, how dear their ovine race.

And on that rump and o'er that round
    so firm, so strong, yet elegant,
the baas that win, the hooves that bound,
    but tell of days in meadows spent—
a flock at peace with all around,
    a drove whose milk is innocent.