Littell's Living Age
Sooth 'twere a pleasant life to lead,
With nothing in the world to do,
But just to blow a shepherd's reed
The silent seasons through,
And just to drive a flock to feed—
Sheep, quiet, fond, and few!
Pleasant to breathe beside a brook,
And count the bubbles - love-worlds - there;
To muse upon some minstrel's book,
Or watch the haunted air;
To slumber in some leafy nook-
Or, idle anywhere.
And then a draught of nature's wine,
A meal of summer's daintiest fruit;
To take the air with forms divine;
Clouds, silvery, cool, and mute;
Descending, if the night be fine,
In a star-parachute.
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