Here you will find the Poem Sheep of poet Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall
LIKE the slow thunder of long seas on the height Where God has set no sea, Voices of folded sheep in the quiet of night Came on the wind to me. Like the low murmur of full tide on a beach Where tide shall never roll, They sent their mournful, inarticulate speech Heavily on my soul. Past is my sorrow, the night past, and the morn Bright on her golden sills. Only the hill-fold voices drowsily scorn The comfort of the hills.
