Browning's Shorter Poems

Then I tuned my harp,—­took off the lilies we twine round its chords
Lest they snap ’neath the stress of the noontide—­those sunbeams like swords! 
And I first played the tune all our sheep know, as, one after one,
So docile they come to the pen-door till folding be done. 
They are white and untorn by the bushes, for lo, they have fed
Where the long grasses stifle the water within the stream’s bed;
And now one after one seeks its lodging, as star follows star 40
Into eve and the blue far above us,—­so, blue and so far!