In Arcadia

In fair Arcadia's verdant fields
Where streams of crystal water flow
A shepherd rests his weary limbs
Beneath a willow's silver glow

He hears the gentle murmur of
The rivers meeting at their source
He sees the bridge that spans across
The waters' ever-changing course

He knows not where the paths may lead
That branch out from this sacred spot
He cares not for the world beyond
His flock, his pipe, his humble cot

He sings a song of love and joy
To charm the nymphs that haunt the shade
He thanks the gods for all their gifts
And dreams of bliss that never fades.

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