The sheep with their little lambs
Passed me by on the road;
All in the April evening
I thought on the Lamb of God.
The lambs were weary, and crying
With a weak, human cry.
I thought on the Lamb of God
Going meekly to die.
Up in the blue, blue mountains
Dewy pastures are sweet;
Rest for the little bodies,
Rest for the little feet.
But for the Lamb of God
Up on a hilltop green
Only a cross of shame
Two stark crosses between.
All in the April evening,
April airs were abroad;
I saw the sheep with their lambs,
And thought on the Lamb of God.
THE MAKING OF BIRDS
By Katherine Tynan
God made Him birds in a pleasant humour;
Tired of planets and suns was He.
He said: "I will add a glory to summer,
Gifts for my creatures banished from Me!"
