Here down this very way, <br />Here only yesterday <br /> King Faun went leaping. <br />He sang, with careless shout <br />Hurling his name about; <br />He sang, with oaken stock <br />His steps from rock to rock <br /> In safety keeping, <br /> “Here Faun is free, <br /> Here Faun is free!” <br /> <br />Today against yon pine, <br />Forlorn yet still divine, <br /> King Faun leant weeping. <br />“They drank my holy brook, <br />My strawberries they took, <br />My private path they trod.” <br />Loud wept the desolate God, <br /> Scorn on scorn heaping, <br /> “Faun, what is he? <br /> Faun, what is he?”<br /><br />Robert Graves<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/faun-2/
