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The New Zealand Railways Magazine, Volume 14, Issue 6 (September 1939)

My Flocks

My Flocks.

I have no sheep;
God knows I could not keep
Even a few!
I who must lie
For ever on my bed
With unraised head,
Watching through latticed pane,
The changing sky—
There do my flocks go by!
Feathered and winged, they sway
That way and this,
Wondering which fields that day
Have the sun-god's kiss.
Farmers complain,
Cursing my flocks that eat their golden grain;
Yet how can I
Mew in a fold that which was made to fly?
Up and away
E'en would they be,
By the first streak of day,
Fluttering-winged, free!
What can I do
But harken to the benisons that fall
Through the soft light
When night doth fold us all?
Marauders they!
Yet do I reap great gain
Watching my flocks pass by my latticed pane.

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