A shepherd’s labour is endless
One minute of sleep, a deadly sin
An open gate regardeth me

Heavy from sport, I groan to see
This leaden track, cruel and bright
To seek my urchins, by degree

I weep, I sigh, it is too late
Light burns my eyes, I trip, I fall
Not yet wise, I sleep’st more
As heavenly sun now garlands all

But my folly of a powerful kind,
This endless bane, hath turned me blind