Pasture Song

Oh, for the beat of changing tides;

For sheep bells faintly clear;

For brooks that tinkle from stone to stone,

A thrush that calls in woods alone,

Morning, evening, afternoon.

Oh, for a sheep bell clear!

Oh, for sweet slopes of pasture grass;

For a path that winds and winds;

For juniper and twisted trees

Against the shine of windy seas,

Morning, evening, afternoon.

Oh, for a path that winds!