'Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; ! While he wept with joy to hear. 'Piper, sit thee down and write And I plucked a follow reed, gover And I made a rural pen, And I stained the water clear, Every child may joy to hear. THE SHEPHERD. How sweet is the shepherd's sweet lot! For he hears the lambs' innocent call, led Till the little ones, weary, No more can be merry : (death) And our sports have an end. Like birds in their nest, Are ready for rest, And sport no more seen On the darkening green. THE LAMB. LITTLE lamb, who made thee? Little lamb, I'll tell thee; Little lamb, I'll tell thee: He is called by thy name, For He calls Himself a Lamb. ch..t He is meek, and He is mild, He became a little child. |