`Shepherd swains that feed your flocks <br />'Mong the grassy-rooted rocks, <br />While I still see sun and moon, <br />Grant to me this simple boon: <br />As I sit on craggy seat, <br />And your kids and young lambs bleat, <br />Let who on the pierced pipe blows <br />Play the sweetest air he knows. <br />And, when I no more shall hear <br />Grasshopper or chanticleer, <br />Strew green bay and yellow broom <br />On the silence of my tomb; <br />And, still giving as you gave, <br />Milk a she-goat at my grave. <br />For, though life and joy be fled, <br />Dear are love-gifts to the dead.'<br /><br />Alfred Austin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shepherd-swains-that-feed-your-flocks/
