Pan and the Maiden
Of satyrs, and the air reeled, and the shout
Of Bacchanalian laughter twined itself
With silences of night, and the uncurled
Wild vines burst forth in leaf and made a green
And reckless arbour over the warm land,
And there was sound of flutes and pleasant pipes.
Of Bacchanalian laughter twined itself
With silences of night, and the uncurled
Wild vines burst forth in leaf and made a green
And reckless arbour over the warm land,
And there was sound of flutes and pleasant pipes.
Pan
Exchange these memories for a newer bliss!
The Maiden
Oh, Pan! the gods rejoiced and laughed, and cried
'Behold the strength of Pan'—thy kisses live
Still, still upon my lips constraining me—
And they have quivered on my lips these years
Through all the changes which have veiled my soul—
'Behold the strength of Pan'—thy kisses live
Still, still upon my lips constraining me—
And they have quivered on my lips these years
Through all the changes which have veiled my soul—
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