THE SHEPHERD

WILLIAM BLAKE

OW sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot!
From the morn to the evening he strays;

He shall follow his sheep all the day,
And his tongue shall be filled with praise.

For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
And he hears the ewes' tender reply;
He is watchful while they are in peace,
For they know when their shepherd is nigh.

AN EPITAPH ON A ROBIN REDBREAST

यू

SAMUEL ROGERS

READ lightly here, for here, 'tis said,
When piping winds are hush'd around,
A small note wakes from underground,
Where now his tiny bones are laid.
No more in lone or leafless groves,
With ruffled wing and faded breast,
His friendless, homeless spirit roves;
Gone to the world where birds are blest!
Where never cat glides o'er the green,
Or schoolboy's giant form is seen;
But love, and joy, and smiling Spring
Inspire their little souls to sing!

TO THE CUCKOO

WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

BLITHE new-comer! I have heard,
I hear thee and rejoice:

O cuckoo shall I call thee bird,
Or but a wandering voice?

While I am lying on the grass,
Thy twofold shout I hear;
From hill to hill it seems to pass,
At once far-off and near.

Though babbling only to the vale,
Of sunshine and of flowers,
Thou bringest unto me a tale
Of visionary hours.

Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring!

Even yet thou art to me

No bird, but an invisible thing,

A voice, a mystery ;

The same whom in my school-boy days

I listen'd to; that cry

Which made me look a thousand ways,
In bush, and tree, and sky.

To seek thee did I often rove

Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still long'd for, never seen!

And I can listen to thee yet;
Can lie upon the plain
And listen, till I do beget
That golden time again.

O blessed bird! the earth we pace, Again appears to be

An unsubstantial, fairy place,

That is fit home for thee!