Clouds
White sheep, white sheep,
On a blue hill,
When the wind stops,
You all stand still.
When the wind blows,
You walk away slow.
White sheep, white sheep,
Where do you go?
This poem is in the public domain.
Poems
Find and share the perfect poems.
More by this poet
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
To every thing there is a season,
and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
1611
The maidens came
The maidens came When I was in my mother's bower; I had all that I would. The bailey beareth the bell away; The lily, the rose, the rose I lay. The silver is white, red is the gold; The robes they lay in fold. The bailey beareth the bell away; The lily, the rose, the rose I lay. And through the glass window shines the sun. How could I love and I so young? The bailey beareth the bell away; The lily, the rose, the rose I lay.
1700
Eadwacer
To my people it's as though he gave them a sacrifice: They will destroy him if he comes among them. It is otherwise with us. Wulf is on one island, I on another. A fastness is that island, rung round with fens. Fierce men are there on the island. They will destroy him if he comes among them. It is otherwise with us. I thought of my Wulf's far wanderings when it was rainy weather and I sat weeping when the war-chief caught me in his arms— it was joy then, yet it was also hateful. Wulf, my Wulf!
1972