THE ENCHANTED SHEEP-FOLD
The hills far-off were blue, blue,The hills at hand were brown;And all the herd-bells called to meAs I came by the down.The briars turned to roses—roses,Ever we stayed to pullA white little rose, and a red little rose,And a lock of silver wool.Nobody heeded,—none, none;And when True Love came by,They thought him nought but the shepherd-boy.Nobody knew but I!The trees were feathered like birds, birds;Birds were in every tree.Yet nobody heeded, nobody heard,Nobody knew, save we.And he is fairer than all,—all.How could a heart go wrong?For his eyes I knew, and his knew mine,Like an old, old song.Josephine Preston Peabody
The hills far-off were blue, blue,The hills at hand were brown;And all the herd-bells called to meAs I came by the down.The briars turned to roses—roses,Ever we stayed to pullA white little rose, and a red little rose,And a lock of silver wool.Nobody heeded,—none, none;And when True Love came by,They thought him nought but the shepherd-boy.Nobody knew but I!The trees were feathered like birds, birds;Birds were in every tree.Yet nobody heeded, nobody heard,Nobody knew, save we.And he is fairer than all,—all.How could a heart go wrong?For his eyes I knew, and his knew mine,Like an old, old song.Josephine Preston Peabody
The hills far-off were blue, blue,The hills at hand were brown;And all the herd-bells called to meAs I came by the down.
The hills far-off were blue, blue,
The hills at hand were brown;
And all the herd-bells called to me
As I came by the down.
The briars turned to roses—roses,Ever we stayed to pullA white little rose, and a red little rose,And a lock of silver wool.
The briars turned to roses—roses,
Ever we stayed to pull
A white little rose, and a red little rose,
And a lock of silver wool.
Nobody heeded,—none, none;And when True Love came by,They thought him nought but the shepherd-boy.Nobody knew but I!
Nobody heeded,—none, none;
And when True Love came by,
They thought him nought but the shepherd-boy.
Nobody knew but I!
The trees were feathered like birds, birds;Birds were in every tree.Yet nobody heeded, nobody heard,Nobody knew, save we.
The trees were feathered like birds, birds;
Birds were in every tree.
Yet nobody heeded, nobody heard,
Nobody knew, save we.
And he is fairer than all,—all.How could a heart go wrong?For his eyes I knew, and his knew mine,Like an old, old song.
And he is fairer than all,—all.
How could a heart go wrong?
For his eyes I knew, and his knew mine,
Like an old, old song.
Josephine Preston Peabody