The poem
ON yonder lofty mountain
A thousand times I stand, And on my staff reclining,
Look down on the smiling land.
My grazing flocks then I follow,
My dog protecting them well; I find myself in the valley,
But how, I scarcely can tell.
The whole of the meadow is cover'd
With flowers of beauty rare; I pluck them, but pluck them unknowing
To whom the offering to bear.
In rain and storm and tempest,
I tarry beneath the tree, But closed remaineth yon portal;
'Tis all but a vision to me.
High over yonder dwelling,
There rises a rainbow gay; But she from home hath departed
And wander'd far, far away.
Yes, far away bath she wander'd,
Perchance e'en over the sea; Move onward, ye sheep, then, move onward!
Full sad the shepherd must be.
1803.*