Ah! the sweet world! Everything was at its barest and
austerest--the grass thin in the pastures, the copses leafless. But
such a sense of hidden life everywhere! I stood long beside the
gate to watch the new-born lambs, whose cries thrilled plaintively
on the air, like the notes of a violin. Little black-faced grey
creatures, on their high, stilt-like legs--a week or two old, and
yet able to walk, to gambol, to rejoice, in their way, to reflect.
The bleating mothers moved about, divided between a deep desire to
eat, and the anxious care of their younglings. One of them stood
over her sleeping lamb, stamping her feet, to dismay me, no doubt,
while the little creature lay like a folded door-mat on the
pasture. Another brutally repelled the advances of a strange lamb,
butting it over whenever it drew near; another chewed the cud,
while its lamb sucked, its eyes half closed in contented joy, just
turning from time to time to sniff at the little creature pressed
close to its side. I felt as if I had never seen the sight before,
this wonderful and amazing drama of life, beginning again year
after year, the same, yet not the same.
The old shepherd came out with his crook, said a few words to me,
and moved off, the ewes following him, the lambs skipping behind.
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