(Syrinx to Pan) I love thee: never dream that I am dumb: By day, by night, my tongue besiegeth thee, As a bat's voice, set in too fine a key, Too tender in its circumstance to come To ears beset by havoc and harsh hum Of the arraigning world; yet secretly I may attain: lo, even a dead bee Dropt sudden from thy open hand by some Too careless wind is laid among thy flowers, Dear to thee as the bees that sing and roam: Thou watchest when the angry moon drops foam: Thou answereş't the faun's soft-footed stare: No influence, but thou feelest it is there, And drawest it profound, into thy hours. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HYPOCRISY by SAMUEL BUTLER (1612-1680) IDYLLS OF THE KING: GARETH AND LYNETTE by ALFRED TENNYSON AUTUMN by JESSIE ALBERT BARNEY PSALM 101 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE HEART'S PICTURES by HIRAM H. BICE A PASTORAL by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |