Classic Poem

Driving goats into a valley,
A white goat in the lead,
This girl grown old, unmarried still,
Stamps the earth and cries to heaven.

“Alack, alas and woe the day!
My thoughts are ever on you
Pillowed on your left arm,
I rolled onto my side.

I used to stroke your beard
And gaze up at your face.
But since then you've forgotten me,
You could not be forced to love.”