THE FAUN

The joys that touched thee once, be mine!

The sympathies of sky and sea,

The friendships of each rock and pine,

That made thy lonely life, ah me!

In Tempe or in Gargaphie.

Such joy as thou didst feel when first,

On some wild crag, thou stood'st alone

To watch the mountain tempest burst,

With streaming thunder, lightning-sown,

On Latmos or on Pelion.

Thy awe! when, crowned with vastness, Night

And Silence ruled the deep's abyss;

And through dark leaves thou saw'st the white

Breasts of the starry maids who kiss

Pale feet of moony Artemis.

Thy dreams! when, breasting matted weeds

Of Arethusa, thou didst hear

The music of the wind-swept reeds;

And down dim forest-ways drew near

Shy herds of slim Arcadian deer.

Thy wisdom! that knew naught but love

And beauty, with which love is fraught;

The wisdom of the heart — whereof

All noblest passions spring — that thought

As Nature thinks, “All else is naught.”

Thy hope! wherein To-morrow set

No shadow; hope, that, lacking care

And retrospect, held no regret,

But bloomed in rainbows everywhere,

Filling with gladness all the air.

These were thine all: in all life's moods

Embracing all of happiness:

And when within thy long-loved woods

Didst lay thee down to die — no less

Thy happiness stood by to bless.