The Poet Shepherd

Down in the vale the lazy sheep
Are roaming at their will,
But I would be away to weep
Upon the windy hill,

For Summer’s song is in my heart,
Her kiss is on my brow,
As here I kneel alone, apart,
To consecrate our vow.

Ah, doubly poor the gift shall be
That links my soul with hers,
For she has given her all to me
While I can give but tears!