Pan and the Maiden
But oh! the years which lie betwixt us now
Weigh mournfully upon me, and the thought
Of new things veils the ancient—Pan, forgive,
The unimagined shades of life are on me,
And even now there cleaves a Love to me—
No boy of Aphrodite, but a thing
Terrible, grave, with deep, imploring eyes,
Which calls me to it for a last farewell.
Weigh mournfully upon me, and the thought
Of new things veils the ancient—Pan, forgive,
The unimagined shades of life are on me,
And even now there cleaves a Love to me—
No boy of Aphrodite, but a thing
Terrible, grave, with deep, imploring eyes,
Which calls me to it for a last farewell.
Pan
Even Aphrodite slumbers, and her Loves.
The Maiden
And I must seek it, Pan, and bid farewell,
Else it would haunt me and its eyes become
Fires, nor could any coolness of the woods
Nor fragrance quench the intolerable light.
But if I seek it, showing how my heart
Is only thine, and how the woods lay hold
Else it would haunt me and its eyes become
Fires, nor could any coolness of the woods
Nor fragrance quench the intolerable light.
But if I seek it, showing how my heart
Is only thine, and how the woods lay hold
11
