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Sorcery Sep. 23rd, 2018|04:38 pm


“What voice is that I hear
Crying across the pool ?”
“It is the voice of Pan you hear,
Crying his sorceries shrill and clear,
In the twillight dim and cool.” 

“What song is it he sings,
Echoing from afar ;
While the sweet swallow bends her wings,
Filling the air with twitterings,
Beneath the brightening star ?” 

The woodman answered me,
His fagot on his back, -
“Seek not the face of Pan to see;
Flee from his clear note summoning thee
To darkness deep and black! 

"He dwells in thickest shade,
Pipping his notes forlorn
Of sorrow never to be allayed ;
Turn from his coverts sad
Of twillight unto morn !” 

The woodman passed away
Along the forest path ;
His ax shone keen and grey
In the last beams of day :
And all was still as death : - 

Only Pan singing sweet
Out of earth’s fragrant shade;
I dreamed his eyes to meet,
And found but shadow laid
Before my tired feet. 

Comes no more dawn to me,
No birds of open skies.
Only his wood’s deep gloom I see
Till, at the end of all, shall rise
Afar and tranquilly,
Death’s stretching sea. 

A Book of Fairy Poems by Walter de La Mare.(1873-1956).

Published : c.1922. 

Art by Dorothy Pulis Lathrop.


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