Goats of Sunset Hill Farm

THE crooked paths go every way

Upon the hill—they wind about

Through the heather in and out

Of the quiet sunniness.

And there the goats, day after day,

 Stray in sunny quietness,

Cropping here and cropping there,

As they pause and turn and pass,

Now a bit of heather spray,

Now a mouthful of the grass.      

In the deeper sunniness,

In the place where nothing stirs,

Quietly in quietness,

In the quiet of the furze,

                                                                                            For a time they come and lie       

                                                                                            Staring on the roving sky...

                                                                                             James Stephens---The Goat Path