The Sheep Do Whisper of a Wolf

O.K. Mantz

A response to Christopher Marlowe’s “The Passionate Shepherd to His Love,” Sir Walter Ralegh’s “The Nymph’s Reply to the Shepherd,” and John Donne’s “The Bait.”

Impassioned Shepherd o’th’ morn of May

Who to his love his love convey;

The Nymph all time away doth wish,

Then splashes on as poor a fish.

The Shepherd with a gown of wool,

Which he from my dear brethren pulled,

Will sit upon the rocks and hills

And scheme not as the good God wills.

For buckles of the purest gold

Are gilt with guiltful sins of old;

And caps and kirtles, belts and buds,

Float rotten in the whisp’ring floods.

I tell thee! Something dark is found:

His gleaming eyes reveal a hound!

Fair linèd slippers of a Bart—

Not for the cold, but for his heart.

When thou hath lived and loved in light,

Dear Shepherd pleasures proved at night.

The Philomel—by his hands dead!

A wayward winter filled with dread.

Yea, sun and moon: more bright shine thee,

Yet Shepherd’s soul eclips’s all three.

His blood-stained hands have slain candou—

Quick! flee, my love, and love no more.