My heart, like the waving wool Poem by Karel van de Woestijne

My heart, like the waving wool of the pale fleeces,
at the hour when weary evening leans to pallid night,
when the earth heaves sluggishly with sheep, and the rippling
of the flock and of a shepherd's pipe are sweet;
— a waving woolly tuft caught on each thorn-bush,
and ...

— God: behold my heart, behold this weary life,
frayed to your will just like a plucked-out fleece;
— but let me feel that a warm byre awaits me ...