My apron deary

My sheep I neglected, I broke my sheep-crook,

And all the gay haunts of my youth I forsook;

No more for Amynta fresh garlands I wove;

For ambition, I said would soon cure me of love.

Oh, what had my youth with ambition to do?

Why left I Amynta? Why broke I my vow?

Oh, give me my sheep, and my sheep-hook restore,

And I'll wander from love and Amynta no more.

Through regions remote in vain do I rove,

And bid the wide ocean secure me from love!

O fool! to imagine that aught could subdue

A love so well founded, a passion so true!

Alas! 'tis too late at thy fate to repine;

Poor shepherd, Amynta can never be thine:

Thy tears are all fruitless, thy wishes are vain,

The moments neglected return not again.