A voice is calling, calling:
The shepherd to his sheep.
The dark is falling, falling,
And soon it will be deep.
And I must follow, follow,
Before the moon should rise,
Through muddy fields of sorrow,
To the glory of the skies.
Poems
A voice is calling, calling:
The shepherd to his sheep.
The dark is falling, falling,
And soon it will be deep.
And I must follow, follow,
Before the moon should rise,
Through muddy fields of sorrow,
To the glory of the skies.