Love New

Pipe little Pan. My love and me
The blind boy now has taught to see,
And here we come the forest ways.
Pipe little Pan; we tread the maze
Of old delights and lovers' bliss.
Pipe little Pan, for, see! we kiss.
And brooks sing loud for joy of it.

Until to-day we never knew
How sweet th' enamelled heaven's blue,
Or darting birds and flaming flowers,
Or netted sun in tangly bowers.
Our ears were never tuned to know
The stamp of little hoofs that go
Clattering down the forest ways
When satyrs keep high holidays;
And dryads pelt with vivid flowers
The swarthy, laughing Summer Hours.

Pipe little god, your broken reed,
Our ears are charmed and we can heed
The forest song; that olden tune
That lovers dance; their rigadoon.

—C.