Pan and the Maiden
And are thy glades deserted, and no more
Shall the delicious joy and surging mirth
Of laughing woodland women sound again?
Has it become a dream, a dream to thee—
And are thy lips hushed and the ancient hopes,
And all the happy moments of the world?
Shall the delicious joy and surging mirth
Of laughing woodland women sound again?
Has it become a dream, a dream to thee—
And are thy lips hushed and the ancient hopes,
And all the happy moments of the world?
Pan (in the distance)
The old days call me with familiar lips.
The Maiden
I who am one with thee and bound with ties
Inextricable of life to all the woods—
My heart the heart of saplings and my blood
Full of the warm desire of Spring for earth,
Now call upon thee, Pan, and all live things
Call on thee with dumb lips and pleading eyes,
Speechless and longing for thee. Slumber not
Inextricable of life to all the woods—
My heart the heart of saplings and my blood
Full of the warm desire of Spring for earth,
Now call upon thee, Pan, and all live things
Call on thee with dumb lips and pleading eyes,
Speechless and longing for thee. Slumber not
3
