English poem
On SPRING and SHEPHERDS
by Anonymous
How sweet the freshing gales of Spring, Each blushing morn how gay; The tuneful lark begins to sing As soon as dawn of day.
Then next Aurora's golden rays Comes glancing o'er the plains, To hail the warblers' plaintive lays, And rouse the sturdy swains;
Who from their cots to toil repair, Regardless of all strife; Unknowing and unknown to care, Is sure the shepherd's life.
He toils, he carols, all the day, At eve then home he bends; Charmed with birds on every spray, As to his cottage tends.
His cot it teems with infants dear, That's wholesome, clean, and neat; His wife, his bed, his all is there, To make his joys compleat.
With these he sits a welcome guest, So happy and so gay, 'Till twilight points the hour of rest, Then they its call obey.