Down in the val­ley, where sum­mer’s laugh­ing beam
Under the wil­low tree lights along the stream,
Shepherds come driv­ing their flocks and seek the pool,
Plunging their sheep in the sun­ny wa­ter cool.

Ah, how they strug­gle, and pant, the sil­ly sheep,
Fearing the hands that dip, fear­ing the wa­ter deep.
Tenderly lift­ed up, glad­ly, one by one,
White in the green of the mea­dow, lo, they run.

Evening is ov­er the land, with peace and light,
Now sits the she­pherd alone in ev­en­ing bright,
Now has he joy with­in, where he pip­eth low,
Seeing his flock ga­thered round him, white as snow.