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.