O PAN is the goodliest god, I wist, Of all of the lovable gods that be! -- For his two strong hands were the first to twist From the depths of the current, through spatter and mist, The long-hushed reeds that he pressed in glee To his murmurous mouth, as he chuckled and kissed Their souls into melody. And the wanton winds are in love with Pan: They loll in the shade with him day by day; And betimes as beast, and betimes as man, They love him as only the wild winds can, -- Or sleeking the coat of his limbs one way, Or brushing his brow with the locks they fan To the airs he loves to play. And he leans by the river, in gloom and gleam, Blowing his reeds as the breezes blow -- His cheeks puffed out, and his eyes in a dream, And his hoof-tips, over the leaves in the stream, Tapping the time of the tunes that flow As sweet as the drowning echoes seem To his rollicking wraith below. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ROSY BOSOM'D HOURS by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE THE STUDY OF A SPIDER by JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN YE SONS OF OLD KILLIE - A MASONIC SONG by ROBERT BURNS FRONTISPIECE OF AN ALBUM by CAROLINE CLIVE SONG: ON HEARING A SONG IN PRAISE OF A LADY'S BEAUTY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE EPILOGUE TO THE CONQUEST OF GRANADA BY THE SPANIARDS by JOHN DRYDEN THE MAN OF MODE, OR SIR FOPLING FLUTTER: EPILOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN TO A VIOLET FOUND ON ALL SAINTS' DAY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR AN ODE, ADDRESSED TO THE ILLUSTRIOUS ENGLISHMAN, JOHN MILTON by ANTONIO FRANCINI |