Richard Eugene Burton

Meanwhile "Black sheep, black sheep!" we cry,
Safe in the inner fold;
And maybe they hear, and read more

Meanwhile "Black sheep, black sheep!" we cry,
Safe in the inner fold;
And maybe they hear, and wonder why,
And marvel, out in the cold.

Blessed is the wooing
That is not long a-doing.

Blessed is the wooing
That is not long a-doing.

From their folded mates they wander far,
Their ways seem harsh and wild:
They follow the beck read more

From their folded mates they wander far,
Their ways seem harsh and wild:
They follow the beck of a baleful star,
Their paths are dream-beguiled.

How often in the summer-tide,
His graver business set aside,
His stripling Will, the thoughtful-eyed
read more

How often in the summer-tide,
His graver business set aside,
His stripling Will, the thoughtful-eyed
As to the pipe of Pan,
Stepped blithesomely with lover's pride
Across the fields to Anne.

We are the doubles of those whose way
Was festal with fruits and flowers;
Body and brain read more

We are the doubles of those whose way
Was festal with fruits and flowers;
Body and brain we were sound as they,
But the prizes were not ours.