My Shepherdess

She lives, she lives up in the hills,

Where mists and eagles are;

Blithe shepherdess of rocks and rills,

'Twixt mortal and a star.

Of acorns is her necklace made,

And reddest berries found;

While slender vines, in glossy braid,

About her brow are bound.

No fairy foots it half so light,

A dancing on the green;

Nor curls a sunny cloud so bright,

The pines and sky between.

My shepherdess of rocks and rills!

We dwell the world above;

She lives and loves up in the hills,

And I live in her love.