Chapter IV

Shepherd and Son and little Bo-peep Herd all the souls like frightened sheep. Staff in hand, hair like snow Does even He know where they go?

A swish as of a sudden wind.... An open window ... a candle thinned, From broken bodies' spirits leap To join the flock of frightened sheep.

So ever They drive them on and on Down the night and over the dawn, And when dusk comes through golden bars They urge them onward up the stars.