Who lives and sets his care
On his poor flock, and fain
Would turn to Love a face of cold disdain.
Ere the ripe season come,
Such a one's ewe-lambs will be fit to bear,
Bringing their lambkins home,
And when the day is drear
Pasturage will they find and waters clear.
If Love should for his sake
Be angry and should turn his mind astray,