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• Silesian shepherd, blesed be
• The sequel of that history
• That I have read with heart elate,
• Entwining it with my own fate;
• So dear to me the visions seem
• That thou, oh child unknown, didst dream—
• In earliest days on mountain wild:—
• How dreadful spirits sternly smiled,
• And prophecied thy future days,
• 10And pointed out untrodden ways,
• And gave thee weapons strong & good,
• As the wierd lady of the Wood
• To young St. George. Must I compare
• With those dove winged guardians fair
• Who to the little English maid
• In crowded streets brief visits paid;
• For in the year that gave me birth
• Didst thou appear upon this earth:
• And we have wandered far & wide
• 20Seeking for truth on every side.
• Sweet dreadful spirits strengthed thee
• Into a noble destiny
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• Sweet smiling angels sang to me
• Strains full of love and mystery.
• Yet know I not what I should do
• In worship of the good & true.

• Oh! gentle shepherd, dost thou wear
• Meek flowers on thy waving hair,
• And dost thou pipe a simple song,
• 30And love thy flock the whole day long?
• Or, stately shepherd, comest thou
• With flaming signs around thy brow
• And God's commandment in thy hand?
• And dost thou read & understand?

• Deliverer—for the good & true
• Within one day what shall we do?
• How shall we build the mystic shrine?
• What symbols shall be thine & mine?
• 40Tell, modern priest, what robes should be
• Emblems of richest charty?
• What consecrations may there be,
• What hope, what faith, what mystery?
• And wilt thou walk thy people thro',
• And sprinkle us with heavenly dew?
• And shall we from the sacred door
• Go forth & search the parish o'er,
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• And mark what evil there is done,
• And give some remedy, each one?
• 50A cup of water, if no more.
• As thou hast purified before,
• With graceful step & action bland,
• Shall we, with schemes of duty planned
• By wisest hearts, walk daily thro'
• With serious step devout & true.

• Our spirits may in deepest rest
• Sleep softly on the Savior's breast.
• Permit it not, dear Lord, that we
• Should ever fall from loving thee.
• 60Countless I trust the spirits be
• Who rest upon thee lovingly.

• The holy Mary, beauteous light,
• Who gazes on her face aright?
• I think the world has yet to turn
• Their looks toward her eyes, & learn.
• There may they read of things unknown,
• And make rare wonders all their own.

• Canst thou within that house of gold,
• Oh! shepherd, thy poor lambkins fold?

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