Classic Poem

Sat we on the mossy rocks
In the twilight, long ago,
I and Ulna keeping flocks—
Flocks with fleeces white as snow.
Beauty smiled along the sky;
Beauty shone along the sea;
“Ulna, Ulna,” whispered I,
This is all for you and me!”

Brushing back my heavy locks,
Said he, not, alas! in glee,
“Art content in keeping flocks
With a shepherd boy like me?”—
Shone the moon so softly white
Down upon the mossy rocks,
Covering sweetly with her light
Me and Ulna, and our flocks.

Running wild about our feet
Were the blushing summer flowers—
“Ulna,” said I, “what is sweet
In this world that is not ours?”
Thrice he kissed my cheek, and sighed,
These are dreary rocks and cold—
Oh, the world is very wide,
And I weary of my fold!

Now a thousand oxen stray
That are Ulna's, down the moor,
And great ships their anchors weigh,
Freighted with his priceless ore.
But my tears will sometimes flow,
Thinking of the mossy rocks
Where we sat, so long ago,
I and Ulna, keeping flocks.