You sing as always of the natural life,
And I that made like music in my youth
Hearing it now have sighed for that young man
And certain lost companions of my own.
Shepherd
They say that on your barren mountain ridge
You have measured out the road that the soul treads
When it has vanished from our natural eyes;
That you have talked with apparitions.
Goatherd
Indeed
My daily thoughts since the first stupor of youth
Have found the path my goats' feet cannot find.
Shepherd
Sing, for it may be that your thoughts have plucked
Some medicable herb to make our grief
Less bitter.
Goatherd
They have brought me from that ridge
Seed pods and flowers that are not all wild poppy.
[Sings.