If he can crawl, he will return again
To his own hills, the spots where when a lamb
He learned to pasture at his mother’s side.
Bethinking him of this, again the boy
Pursued his way toward a brook, whose course
Was through that unfenced tract of mountain ground
Which to his father’s little farm belonged,
The home and ancient birthright of their flock.
Down the deep channel of the stream he went,
Prying through every nook. Meanwhile the rain