BROWNER than the hazel-husk, swifter than the wind, <br />Though you turn from heath and hill, we are hard behind, <br />Singing, 'Ere the sorrows rise, ere the gates unclose <br />Bind above your wistful eyes the memory of a rose.' <br /> <br />Dark Iacchus pipes the kine shivering from the whin, <br />Wraps him in a she-goat's fell above the panther skin. <br />Now we husk the corn for bread, turn the mill for hire, <br />Hoof by hoof and head by head about the herdsman's fire. <br /> <br />Ai, Adonis, where he gleams, slender and at rest, <br />One has built a roof of dreams where the white doves nest. <br />Ere they bring the wine-dark bowl, ere the gates unbar, <br />Take, O take within your soul the shadow of a star. <br /> <br />Now the vintage feast is done, now the melons glow <br />Gold along the raftered thatch beneath a thread of snow. <br />Dian's bugle bids the dawn sweep the upland clear, <br />Where we snared the silken fawn, where we ran the deer. <br /> <br />Through the dark reeds wet with rain, past the singing foam <br />Went the light-foot Mysian maids, calling Hylas home. <br />Syrinx felt the silver spell fold her at her need. <br />Hear, ere yet you say farewell, the wind along the reed. <br /> <br />Golden as the earliest leaf loosened from the spray, <br />Grave Alcestis drank of grief for her lord's delay. <br />Ere you choose the bitter part, learn the changeless wrong, <br />Bind above your breaking heart the echo of a song. <br /> <br />Now the chestnut burrs are down; aspen-shaws are pale; <br />Now across the plunging reef reels the last red sail. <br />Ere the wild, black horses cry, ere the night has birth, <br />Take, ere yet you say good-bye, the love of all the earth.<br /><br />Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-little-fauns-to-proserpine/
