Like the speckled bird that steers
'Like the speckled bird that steersThousands of leagues oversea,And runs for a while or a while half-fliesUpon his yellow legs through our meadows,He stayed for a while; and weHad scarcely accustomed our earsTo his speech at the break of day,Had scarcely accustomed our eyesTo his shape in the lengthening shadows,Where the sheep are thrown in the pool,When he vanished from ears and eyes.I had wished a dear thing on that dayI heard him first, but man is a fool.'
GOATHERD
You sing as always of the natural life,And I that made like music in my youthHearing it now have sighed for that young manAnd certain lost companions of my own.
SHEPHERD
They say that on your barren mountain ridgeYou have measured out the road that the soul treadsWhen it has vanished from our natural eyes;That you have talked with apparitions.
GOATHERD
IndeedMy daily thoughts since the first stupor of youthHave found the path my goats' feet cannot find.
SHEPHERD
Sing, for it may be that your thoughts have pluckedSome medicable herb to make our griefLess bitter.
GOATHERD
They have brought me from that ridgeSeed pods and flowers that are not all wild poppy.
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