The Shepherd
The shepherd guides with loving hands
The shivering flock toward the lands.
Where light and pond and larks and spring
And buds and trees and birds fluttering.
Would charm the morn in sultry grace
Where blushing dews has found its place.
For beyond that verdant distant course
He swiftly saunters for a morning pause.
Where gladsome notes would greet the day
And doves would kiss the mountain spray.
Cautious the shepherd outspreads his fold
To graze the fields thats warm and gold.
But nearer one draws to the gothic woods
Where the ancient haunting echoe floods.
Where the humming trees as one aspire
To touch the skies that holds pure fire.
But fearsome a beast creeps ever so near
When fields stands mute in the sober air.
All the while the sherperd aims up close
To protect the ones he holds dear most.
Then he swiftly treads to fetch the lamb
To hold it close,away from all harm.
Then gently he rest in dancing flowers
By the cystal creeks in the idle hours.
Where butterflies,bees and lingering hues
Turtle doves,crickets and silvery dews.
Would renew his smile thats chased away
In the graceful harmony of summer's day.
But when the drowsy sun softly dies
And the moon is written on the skies
He gathers his tender flocks that roam
To guide away to a place called home.
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