Poems
Raise Pan a temple and a dwelling-place
Wrought of cold marble twined about with flowers,
Wild woodland plants, vines, sinuous ivy stems,
And on his altars sacrificial grain
Shall burn, and incense scent the heavy air—
That he seeing we forget him not may grant
Forgiveness and accomplishment of joy.
Wrought of cold marble twined about with flowers,
Wild woodland plants, vines, sinuous ivy stems,
And on his altars sacrificial grain
Shall burn, and incense scent the heavy air—
That he seeing we forget him not may grant
Forgiveness and accomplishment of joy.
The Maiden
Pan needs no temple fairer than the world—
The whole world is his temple and the trees
His wreathed columns, and the fields are his,
Glowing with living offerings and prayers,
The scent of earth his incense—but he craves
All tremulous woodland hearts to blend with him,
And mine is full of woodland ecstasy.
The whole world is his temple and the trees
His wreathed columns, and the fields are his,
Glowing with living offerings and prayers,
The scent of earth his incense—but he craves
All tremulous woodland hearts to blend with him,
And mine is full of woodland ecstasy.
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