V.—THE PET LAMB.
Wordsworth.
The dew was falling fast, the stars began to blink;
I heard a voice; it said, “Drink, pretty creature, drink!”
And, looking o’er the hedge, before me I espied
A snow-white mountain lamb with a maiden at its side.
No other sheep were near, the lamb was all alone,
And by a slender cord was tethered to a stone;
With one knee on the grass did the little maiden kneel,