The Lambs of Grasmere, 1860 Christina Rossetti

The upland flocks grew starved and thinned:
        Their shepherds scarce could feed the lambs
Whose milkless mothers butted them,
        Or who were orphaned of their dams.
The lambs athirst for mother's milk
        Filled all the place with piteous sounds:
Their mothers' bones made white for miles
        The pastureless wet pasture grounds.

Day after day, night after night,
        From lamb to lamb the shepherds went,
With teapots for the bleating mouths
        Instead of nature's nourishment.
The little shivering gaping things
        Soon knew the step that brought them aid,
And fondled the protecting hand,
        And rubbed it with a woolly head.

Then, as the days waxed on to weeks,
        It was a pretty sight to see
These lambs with frisky heads and tails
        Skipping and leaping on the lea,
Bleating in tender, trustful tones,
        Resting on rocky crag or mound,
And following the beloved feet
        That once had sought for them and found.