WHERE are the times when—miles away

From the din and the dust of cities—

Alexis left his lambs to play,

And wooed some shepherdess half the day

With pretty and plaintive ditties?

Where are the pastures daisy-strewn

And the flocks that lived in clover;

The Zephyrs that caught the pastoral tune

And carried away the notes as soon

As ever the notes were over?

Where are the echoes that bore the strains

Each to his nearest neighbour:

And all the valleys and all the plains

Where all the nymphs and their love-sick swains

Made merry to pipe and tabor?

Where are they gone? They are gone to sleep

Where Fancy alone can find them:

But Arcady's times are like the sheep

That quitted the care of Little Bo-Peep,

For they've left their tales behind them!