Visions.
The Poet meets Apollo on the hill, And Pan and Flora and the Paphian Queen, And infant naads bathing in the rill, And dryad maids that dance upon the green, And fauns and Oreads in the silver sheen They wear in summer, when the air is still. He quaffs the wine of life, and quaffs his fill, And sees Creation through its mask terrene. The dead are wise, for they alone can see As see the bards, - as see, beyond the dust, The eyes of babes. The dead alone are just. There is no comfort in the bitter fee That scholars pay for fame. True sage is he Who doubts all doubt, and takes the soul on trust.
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"The Poet meets Apollo on the hill,..."
Eric Mackay's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Visions."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...