II
Beneath a rock, upon the grass,
Two Boys are sitting in the sun;
It seems they have no work to do,
Or that their work is done.
On pipes of sycamore they play
The fragments of a Christmas Hymn;
Or with that plant which in our dale
We call Stag-horn, or Fox’s Tail,
Their rusty Hats they trim:
And thus, as happy as the Day,
Those Shepherds wear the time away.