Grown about by Fragrant Bushes

Grown about by fragrant bushes,
Sunken in a winding valley,
 Where the clear winds blow
 And the shadows come and go,
 And the cattle stand and low
And the sheep bells and the linnets
 Sing and tinkle musically.
Between the past and the future,
 Those two black infinities
 Between which our brief life
 Flashes a moment and goes out.