The Homecoming Of The Sheep

The sheep are coming home in Greece, Hark the bells on every hill! Flock by flock, and fleece by fleece, Wandering wide a little piece Thro' the evening red and still, Stopping where the pathways cease, Cropping with a hurried will.

Thro' the cotton-bushes low Merry boys with shouldered crooks Close them in a single row, Shout among them as they go With one bell-ring o'er the brooks. Such delight you never know Reading it from gilded books.

Before the early stars are bright Cormorants and sea-gulls call, And the moon comes large and white Filling with a lovely light The ferny curtained waterfall. Then sleep wraps every bell up tight And the climbing moon grows small.