He saw me, and he turned aside,

As if he wished himself to hide :

Then with his coat he made essay
To wipe those briny tears away.

I followed him, and said, "My Friend, What ails you? wherefore weep you so ?" "Shame on me, Sir! this lusty Lamb,

He makes my tears to flow.

Today I fetched him from the rock;

He is the last of all my flock.

When I was young, a single Man,
And after youthful follies ran,

Though little given to care and thought,
Yet, so it was, a Ewe I bought;
And other sheep from her I raised,
As healthy sheep as you might see;

And then I married, and was rich
As I could wish to be;

Of sheep I numbered a full score,

And every year increased my store.

Year after

year my stock it grew,

And from this one, this single Ewe,

Full fifty comely sheep I raised,

As sweet a flock as ever grazed!

Upon the mountain did they feed,

They throve, and we at home did thrive.

This lusty Lamb of all my store

Is all that is alive ;

And now I care not if we die,

And perish all of poverty.

Six Children, Sir! had I to feed,
Hard labour in a time of need!

My pride was tamed, and in our grief
I of the Parish ask'd relief.

They said I was a wealthy man;

My sheep upon the mountain fed,

And it was fit that thence I took

Whereof to buy us bread."

"Do this: how can we give to you,”

They cried," what to the poor is due?"

I sold a sheep, as they had said,

And bought my little children bread,
And they were healthy with their food;
For me it never did me good.

A woeful time it was for me,

To see the end of all my gains,

The pretty flock which I had reared

With all my care and pains,

To see it melt like snow away!
For me it was a woeful day.

Another still! and still another!

A little lamb, and then its mother!

It was a vein that never stopp'd

Like blood-drops from my heart they dropp'd.

Till thirty were not left alive

They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,

And I may say, that many a time

I wished they all were gone :

They dwindled one by one away;
For me it was a woeful day.

To wicked deeds I was inclined,

And wicked fancies cross'd my mind;
And every man I chanced to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me.
No peace, no comfort could I find,
No ease, within doors or without,
And crazily, and wearily,

I went my work about.

Oft-times I thought to run away;
For me it was a woeful day.

Sir! 'twas a precious flock to me,
As dear as my own Children be;

For daily with my growing store

I loved my Children more and more. Alas! it was an evil time;

God cursed me in my sore distress;

I prayed, yet every day I thought

I loved my Children less ; ›
And every week, and every day,
My flock, it seemed to melt away.

They dwindled, Sir, sad sight to see! From ten to five, from five to three, A lamb, a wether, and a ewe ;—

And then, at last, from three to two; And of my fifty, yesterday

1 had but only one :

And here it lies upon my arm,

Alas! and I have none ;

Today I fetched it from the rock;