The Shepherd and the Flock
The shepherd in the winter cold
Gathers up his grazing fold.
Upon the misted hillside bush
Within a frosted evening hush.
Before the glimmer turns to dark
Before the wolves maraud the park.
To steal away its nightly feast
To a haunted chilled moonless east.
There was never a greater love
Between a shepherd and his drove.
For you can never tame or sever
A burning love that beats forever.
The shepherd guides with loving hands
The shivering flock towards the lands.
To home at last where creatures play
Until the gleaming sun had sank away.
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