The Piping Shepherd by Myra Morris

| No TrackBacks
Far over the green meadows of the sea 
The wind comes piping, piping eerily
Before him run the little waves, his sheep
All loth to leave the far foam-flowered steep! 

Piping he drives his scattered snow-white flocks
Among the purple paths of jagged rocks.
This way and that, with all their sliver bells 
Chiming a tune of empty lifted shells

Beyond pale pasture lands of shining gold
He drives them safe within the covering fold
Of dusk-dark caves where all night long they cry,
Away from the sweet air and starry sky!

First published in The Sydney Morning Herald, 31 August 1929

Author reference sites: AustlitAustralian Dictionary of Biography

See also.

No TrackBacks

TrackBack URL:

About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Perry Middlemiss published on August 31, 2014 7:46 AM.

Meeting by Mabel Forrest was the previous entry in this blog.

Aunty's Garden by Zora Cross is the next entry in this blog.

Find recent content on the main index or look in the archives to find all content.


Powered by Movable Type 4.23-en