 | Poems (1857) |  |
272
THE SHEPHERD'S DAUGHTER.
I
Where the golden hand of mornTouches light the singing fountain,
There a maiden, lowly born,
Guides her flock along the mountain;—
Bashful as the fawn, and fleet,
She invests the world with beauty;
Simple grace, and manners sweet,
Dignify her humble duty.
273
II
Sudden light has wreathed the earth,Robed the fields and flowers in gladness;
New delights, too deep for mirth;
Gentle griefs, too sweet for sadness:
Who this sudden charm hath wrought?—
Sent this flow of bright revealings?—
Mind, that springs with joyous thought!
Heart, that glows with heavenly feelings!
III
Surely, 'tis some angel strayed,Not a shepherd's daughter solely,
Who hath earth like heaven arrayed,
In a light and love so holy!
Oh! when stars, like drops of pearl,
Glimmer o'er the singing water,
There I'll woo my mountain girl,
Proudly wed the Shepherd's Daughter!
| Poems (1857) | |