YE poor little sheep, ah! well may ye stray, While sad is your shepherd, and Clio away! Tell where have you been, have you met with my love, On the mountain, or valley, or meadow, or grove? Alas-aday, no—Ye are stray'd, and half dead; Ye saw not my love, or ye all had been fed. Oh, Sun, did you see her?—ah! surely you did: 'Mong what willows, or woodbines, or reeds, is she hid? Ye tall whistling pines, that on yonder hill grow, And o'erlook the beautiful valley below, Did you see her a-roving in wood or in brake? Or bathing her fair limbs in some silent lake? Ye mountains, that look on the vigorous East, And the North, and the South, and the wearisome West, Pray tell where she hides her—you surely do know— And let not her lover pine after her so. Oh, had I the wings of an eagle, I'd fly Along with bright Phœbus all over the sky; Like an eagle look down, with my wings wide display'd, And dart in my eyes at each whispering shade: I'd search every tuft in my diligent tour, I'd unravel the woodbines, and look in each bower, Till I found out my Clio, and ended my pain, And made myself quiet, and happy again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRESIDENT GARFIELD by GEORGE SANTAYANA DEEP IN THE NIGHT by SARA TEASDALE THE HOCK-CART, OR HARVEST HOME by ROBERT HERRICK THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 101 by OMAR KHAYYAM HYMN TO THE FLOWERS by HORACE SMITH FALSE FRIEND by GHALIB IBN RIBAH AL-HAJJAM THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER'S COMPLAINT by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK DOOMSDAY: TREASURES IN HEAVEN by WILLIAM ALEXANDER (1567-1640) |