Chapter 21 THE LAST OF THE FLOCK.
In distant countries I have been,
And yet I have not often seen
A healthy man, a man fully grown
Weep in the public roads alone.
But such a one, on English ground,
And in the broad high-way, I met;
Along the broad high-way he came,
His cheeks with tears were wet.
Sturdy he seemed, though he was sad;
And in his arms a lamb he had.
He saw me, and he turned aside,
As if he wished himself to hide:
Then with his coat he made essay
To wipe those briny tears away.
I followed him, and said, "My friend
"What ails you? Wherefore weep you so?"
--"Shame on me, Sir! this lusty lamb,
He makes my tears to ?ow.
To-day I fetched him from the rock;
He is the last of all my ?ock.
When I was young, a single man.
And after youthful follies ran,
Though little given to care and thought,
Yet, so it was, a ewe I bought;
And other sheep from her I raised,
As healthy sheep as you might see,
And then I married, and was rich
As I could wish to be;
Of sheep I numbered a full score,
And every year encreased my store.
Year after year my stock it grew,
And from this one, this single ewe,
Full ?fty comely sheep I raised,
As sweet a ?ock as ever grazed!
Upon the mountain did they feed;
They thrive, and we at home did thrive.
--This lusty lamb of all my store
Is all that is alive:
And now I care not if we die,
And perish all of poverty.
Ten children, Sir! had I to feed,
Hard labor in a time of need!
My pride was tamed, and in our grief,
I of the parish asked relief.
They said I was a wealthy man;
My sheep upon the mountain fed,
And it was ?t that then I took
Whereof to buy us bread:"
"Do this; how can we give to you,"
They cried, "what to the poor is due?"
I sold a sheep as they had said,
And bought my little children bread,
And they were healthy with their food;
For me it never did me good.
A woeful time it was for me,
To see the end of all my gains,
The pretty ?ock which I had reared
With all my care and pains,
To see it melt like snow away!
For me it was a woeful day.
Another still! and still another!
A little lamb, and then its mother!
It was a vein that never stopped,
Like blood-drops from my heart they droppd.
Till thirty were not left alive
They dwindled, dwindled, one by one,
And I may say that many a time
I wished they all were gone:
They diwindled one by one away;
For me it was a woeful day.
To wicked deeds I was inclined,
And wicked fancies crossd my mind,
And every man I chanced to see,
I thought he knew some ill of me
No peace, no comfort could I?nd,
No ease, within doors or without,
And crazily, and wearily,
I went my work about.
Oft-times I thought to run away;
For me it was a woeful day.
Sir! twas a precious? ock to me,
As dear as my own children be;
For daily with my growing store
I loved my children more and more.
Alas! it was an evil time;
God cursed me in my sore distress,
I prayed, yet every day I thought
I loved my children less;
And every week, and every day,
My ?ock, it seemed to melt away.
They diwindled, Sir, sad sight to see!
From ten to ?ve, from ?ve to three,
A lamb, a weather, and a ewe;
And then at last, from three to two;
And of my ?fty, yesterday
I had but only one,
And here it lies upon my arm,
Alas! and I have none;
To-day I fetched it from the rock;
It is the last of all my ?ock."