Shepherd and Son and little
Bo-peep
Herd all the souls like frightened
sheep.
Staff in hand, hair like snow
Does even He know where they
go?
A swish as of a sudden wind....
An open window ... a candle
thinned,
From broken bodies’
spirits leap
To join the flock of frightened
sheep.
So ever They drive them on
and on
Down the night and over the
dawn,
And when dusk comes through
golden bars
They urge them onward up the
stars.