January 2012
With grasses, the sheep will dawdle along to where Leaves beckon them, bejeweled with morning dew, And the lambs full-fed frisk in their merry play- All of which, as we look from far off, melts Into one still white glow on the green hill. And great battalions swarming over the fields, Filling them as they flourish their war maneuvers, Flash lightning to the skies, and the earth around them Is all...
