Beneath the ancient oaks he wanders slow,
A shepherd lost in thoughts both deep and wide,
Where gentle streams of wisdom softly flow,
In nature’s quiet arms, he doth confide.

His flock, a gentle chorus to his ear,
While stars arise to crown the evening’s grace,
In solitude, his soul doth find its sphere,
A tranquil muse within this sacred space.

The meadows stretch beneath the twilight’s hue,
As shadows dance upon the emerald sea,
In every breeze, a whispered truth anew,
Revealing secrets of eternity.

Oh, shepherd, guardian of the fields so wide,
In pastoral peace, thy heart forever stays,
Amidst the earthly bounds where dreams abide,
In Milton’s verse, thy spirit gently sways.