I caught but a glimpse of him. Summer was here. <br />And I strayed from the town and its dust and heat. <br />And walked in a wood, while the noon was near, <br />Where the shadows were cool, and the atmosphere <br />Was misty with fragrances stirred by my feet <br />From surges of blossoms that billowed sheer <br />Of the grasses, green and sweet. <br /> <br />And I peered through a vista of leaning tree, <br />Tressed with long tangles of vines that swept <br />To the face of a river, that answered these <br />With vines in the wave like the vines in the breeze, <br />Till the yearning lips of the ripples crept <br />And kissed them, with quavering ecstasies, <br />And wistfully laughed and wept <br /> <br />And there, like a dream in swoon, I swear <br />I saw Pan lying--, his limbs in the dew <br />And the shade, and his face in the dazzle and glare <br />Of the glad sunshine; while everywhere, <br />Over across, and around him blew <br />Filmy dragon-flies hither and there, <br />And little white butterflies, two and two, <br />In eddies of odorous air.<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-glimpse-of-pan/
