My pretty lamb with snowy fleece’

  With low and tender bleat,

And feet that o’er the daisies fly

So soundless and so fleet.

To meet me when I come in sight,

  Through sunshine or through showers;

How merry you and I have been

  Among the meadow flowers.


I never found you cross or tired,

  The whole long summer day;

I never knew you leave my side,

  Nor yet refused to play.

There’s none of all my schoolfellows

  That love me now like you;

And I had many a pet before,

  But none that seemed so true.


They brought me in a robin once

  That had a broken wing;

I nursed him all the winter, but

  He flew away in spring.

The next, it was a lovely squirrel,

  So full of tricks and fun,

But he left me in the wood one day,

  At the setting of the sun.


You will not leave me too, my lamb;

  But sometimes in my sleep

I grieve to dream that you have grown

  An old and quiet sheep;

That only minds the grass all day,

  And never lifts its eyes,

Like all your friends in yonder field,

  So woolly and so wise.


Thus talked poor Lucy, to her lamb,

  With arms about it twined,

Till her good father passed and spoke

  To her in words so kind:

‘’So must my little rosy girl,

  That now so blithely plays,

From childhood grow to woman’s cares,

  To woman’s works and ways.


‘’A world of hopes and fears, beyond

  Her early playmate’s lot,

Awaits my Lucy, when her sports

  And pets are all forgot.

Yet may she still its innocence,

  Her fair example hold,

And live a meek and guideless lamb

  In our good Shepherd’s fold.’’