Page:Poems (IA poemslowell00lowe).pdf/124

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106

THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS.

There came a youth upon the earth,
 Some thousand years ago,
Whose slender hands were nothing worth,
Whether to plough, or reap, or sow.

He made a lyre, and drew therefrom
 Music so strange and rich,
That all men loved to hear,—and some
Muttered of fagots for a witch.

But King Admetus, one who had
 Pure taste by right divine,
Decreed his singing not too bad
To hear between the cups of wine:

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