The Sheperd Boy

LIKE some vision olden

Of far other time,

When the age was golden,

In the young world's prime

Is thy soft pipe ringing,

O lonely shepherd boy,

What song art thou singing,

In thy youth and joy?

Or art thou complaining

Of thy lowly lot,

And thine own disdaining

Dost ask what thou hast not?

Of the future dreaming,

Weary of the past,

For the present scheming,

All but what thou hast.

No, thou art delighting

In thy summer home;

Where the flowers inviting

Tempt the bee to roam;

Where the cowslip bending,

With its golden bells,

Of each glad hour's ending

With a sweet chime tells.

All wild creatures love him

When he is alone,

Every bird above him

Sings its softest tone.

Thankful to high Heaven,

Humble in thy joy,

Much to thee is given,

Lowly shepherd boy.