Pan led me to a wood the other day, Then, bending both hoofs under him, where moss Was softest and where highest was the tuft, Said he, "Sit thou aside me; there is room Just for us two; the tinklers are below To catch the little birds and butterflies, Nor see us nor would heed us if they saw. I minded thee in Sicily with one I dearly love; I heard thee tell my loss Of Pitys; and he swore that none but thou Could thus contend with him, or ever should. Though others had loud lyres and struck them well, Few could bring any harmony from reeds By me held high, and higher since thou hast breath'd Thy gentle breath o'er Pitys and her Pan." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROSALIND'S MADRIGAL, FR. ROSALIND [ROSALYNDE] by THOMAS LODGE MEDITATIONS OF A HINDU [OR, HINDOO] PRINCE [AND SKEPTIC] by ALFRED COMYNS LYALL RIDDLE: A CANDLE by MOTHER GOOSE PASSING AWAY by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE TULIP AND THE LILY, SELECTION by JAMES BARCLAY AN OLD BURYING GROUND by ELFRIDA DE RENNE BARROW |