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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348118" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Favorites of Pan</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Once, long ago, before the gods<br>Had left this earth, by stream and forest glade,<br>Where the first plough upturned the clinging sods,<br>Or the lost shepherd strayed,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Often to the tired listener's ear<br>There came at noonday or beneath the stars<br>A sound, he knew not whence, so sweet and clear,<br>That all his aches and scars</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And every brooded bitterness,<br>Fallen asunder from his soul took flight,<br>Like mist or darkness yielding to the press<br>Of an unnamed delight,-</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A sudden brightness of the heart,<br>A magic fire drawn down from Paradise,<br>That rent the cloud with golden gleam apart,-<br>And far before his eyes</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The loveliness and calm of earth<br>Lay like a limitless dream remote and strange,<br>The joy, the strife, the triumph and the mirth,<br>And the enchanted change;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And so he followed the sweet sound,<br>Till faith had traversed her appointed span,<br>And murmured as he pressed the sacred ground:<br>'It is the note of Pan!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now though no more by marsh or stream<br>Or dewy forest sounds the secret reed-<br>For Pan is gone-Ah yet, the infinite dream<br>Still lives for them that heed.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In April, when the turning year<br>Regains its pensive youth, and a soft breath<br>And amorous influence over marsh and mere<br>Dissolves the grasp of death,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To them that are in love with life,<br>Wandering like children with untroubled eyes,<br>Far from the noise of cities and the strife,<br>Strange flute-like voices rise</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At noon and in the quiet of the night<br>From every watery waste; and in that hour<br>The same strange spell, the same unnamed delight,<br>Enfolds them in its power.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">An old-world joyousness supreme,<br>The warmth and glow of an immortal balm,<br>The mood-touch of the gods, the endless dream,<br>The high lethean calm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They see, wide on the eternal way,<br>The services of earth, the life of man;<br>And, listening to the magic cry they say:<br>'It is the note of Pan!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For, long ago, when the new strains<br>Of hostile hymns and conquering faiths grew keen,<br>And the old gods from their deserted fanes,<br>Fled silent and unseen,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So, too, the goat-foot Pan, not less<br>Sadly obedient to the mightier hand,<br>Cut him new reeds, and in a sore distress<br>Passed out from land to land;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And lingering by each haunt he knew,<br>Of fount or sinuous stream or grassy marge,<br>He set the syrinx to his lips, and blew<br>A note divinely large;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And all around him on the wet<br>Cool earth the frogs came up, and with a smile<br>He took them in his hairy hands, and set<br>His mouth to theirs awhile,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And blew into their velvet throats;<br>And ever from that hour the frogs repeat<br>The murmur of Pan's pipes, the notes,<br>And answers strange and sweet;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And they that hear them are renewed<br>By knowledge in some god-like touch conveyed,<br>Entering again into the eternal mood,<br>Wherein the world was made.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Archibald+Lampman">Archibald Lampman</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=348118" data-title="Favorites of Pan de Archibald Lampman" data-description="Once, long ago, before the gods
Had left this earth, by stream and forest glade,
Where the first plough upturned the clinging sods,
Or the lost shepherd strayed,

Often to the tired listener's ear
There came at noonday or beneath the stars
A sound..."></div>
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