[29] Shepherd Shepherd He that was best in every country sport And every country craft, and of us all Most courteous to slow age and hasty youth Is dead. Goatherd Goatherd The boy that brings my griddle cake Brought the bare news. The boy that brings my griddle cake Shepherd Shepherd He had thrown the crook away And died in the great war beyond the sea. He had thrown the crook away Goatherd Goatherd [30]He had often played his pipes among my hills And when he played it was their loneliness, The exultation of their stone, that cried Under his fingers. [30] Shepherd Shepherd I had it from his mother, And his own flock was browsing at the door. I had it from his mother,
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