Classic and Contemporary Poetry
WHEN THE SHEEP COME DOWN, by CLYDE ROBERTSON
First Line: The sheep came down from the hills today
Last Line: I, too, must follow the sheep.
The sheep came down from the hills today,
The hushed high hills; they go
Down the dusty trail to a deeper hush.
Slow, and ever slow,
The weary stream creeps to the sea.
Its flood tide long since past.
The aspens stare in nakedness
Bared by a northern blast.
The waterfall has ceased to sing
Its joyous springtime note:
Only a dirge to summer drones
Deep in its muted throat.
The air is chill with coming snow;
All nature, with one breath,
Is chanting in a minor chord
A symphony of death.
I, too, the hushed hills warn me,
Have a rendezvous to keep:
Down the dusty trail to a deeper hush
I, too, must follow the sheep.
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