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Poem by Alice Meynell


The Shepherdess


SHE walks-the lady of my delight-
    A shepherdess of sheep. 
Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white;
    She keeps them from the steep; 
She feeds them on the fragrant height,
    And folds them in for sleep.

She roams maternal hills and bright,
    Dark valleys safe and deep. 
Into that tender breast at night
    The chastest stars may peep. 
She walks-the lady of my delight-
    A shepherdess of sheep.

She holds her little thoughts in sight,
    Though gay they run and leap. 
She is so circumspect and right;
    She has her soul to keep. 
She walks-the lady of my delight-
    A shepherdess of sheep.



Alice Meynell


Alice Meynell's other poems:
  1. A Letter from a Girl to Her Own Old Age
  2. Builders of Ruins
  3. A Poet of One Mood
  4. Cradle-Song at Twilight
  5. The Fold


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