KE some vision olden Of far other time,
When the age was golden,
In the young world's
Is thy soft pipe ringing,
O lonely shepherd boy,
What song art thou singing,
In thy youth and joy?
Or art thou
Of thy lowly lot,
And thine own
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
In thy summer home;
Where the flowers
Tempt the bee to roam;
Where the cowslip bending,
With its golden bells,
Of each glad hour's
With a sweet chime tells.
All wild creatures love
When he is alone,
Every bird above
Sings its softest tone.
Thankful to high Heaven,
Humble in thy joy,
Much to thee is given,
Lowly shepherd boy.
