Chapter 9 No.9

Then I tuned my harp-took off the lilies we twine round its chords

Lest they snap 'neath the stress of the noontide-those sunbeams like swords!35

And I first played the tune all our sheep know as, one after one,

So docile they come to the pen-door till folding be done.

They are white and untorn by the bushes, for lo, they have fed

Where the long grasses stifle the water within the stream's bed;

And now one after one seeks its lodging, as star follows star40

Into eve and the blue far above us-so blue and so far!