[Numbers]
[Ploughman at the Plough]
[Creed]
[The Starry Lady]
[When the Great Arm of a Tree Bends Stooping]
[The Moon-Clock]
[Unnamed Fruit]
[Portrait of an Artist]
[Shepherd Singing Ragtime]
[Skylark Noon]
[The Singer of High State]
[Bird, Bird, Bird]
[Green Beads]
[The Wind, Whence Blowing]
[Lady of Babylon]
[This is the Happy Husband, This is He]
[Cold Branch in the Black Air]
[Ghosts Gathering]
[Lyric in Gloom]
[I Seek a Wild Star]
[My Lady of Peace]
[Our Jack]
[Peace]
[Silver-Badged Waiter]
[Sunset over Suburb]
[Shrift among Hills]
[Courage the Dreamers]
NUMBERS
Three sheep graze on the low hill
Beneath the shadow of five trees.
Three sheep!
Five old sycamores!
(The noon is very full of sleep.
The noon's a shepherd kind and still.
The noon's a shepherd takes his ease
Beneath the shadow of five trees,
Five old sycamores.)
Three sheep graze on the low hill.
Down in the grass in twos and fours
Cows are munching in the field.
Three sheep graze on the low hill;
Bless them, Lord, to give me wool.
Cows are munching in the field;
Bless them that their teats be full.
Bless the sheep and cows to yield
Wool to keep my children warm,
Milk that they should grow therefrom.
Three sheep graze on the low hill,
Beneath five sycamores.
Cows are munching in the field.
All in twos and fours.
On an elm-tree far aloof
There are nine-and-twenty crows,
Croaking to the blue sky roof
Fifteen hundred ancient woes.
In a cracked deserted house,
Six owls cloaked with age and dream,
In a cracked deserted house,
Six owls wait upon a beam,
Wait for the nocturnal mouse.
In the stackyard at my farm
There are fourteen stacks of hay.
Lord, I pray
Keep my golden goods from harm,
Fourteen shining stacks of hay!
Fourteen shining stacks of hay,
Six owls, nine-and-twenty crows,
Three sheep grazing on the hill
Beneath five sycamores,
Fat cows munching in a field,
All in twos and fours,
Fat cows munching in a field,
Fourteen shining stacks of hay.
At a table in a room
Where beyond the window-frames
Glows the sweet geranium,
At a table in a room
My three children play their games
Till their father-poet come,
Stop a moment, listen, wait
Till a father-poet come.
Lovely ones of lovely names,
He shall not come late.