The Faun

The joys that touched thee once, be mine!     The sympathies of sky and sea,     The friendships of each rock and pine,     That made thy lonely life, ah me!     In Tempe or in Gargaphie.     Such joy as thou didst feel when first,     On some wild crag, thou stood'st alone     To watch the mountain tempest burst,     With streaming thunder, lightning-sown,     On Latmos or on Pelion.     Thy awe! when, crowned with vastness, Night     And Silence ruled the deep's abyss;     And through dark leaves thou saw'st the white     Breasts of the starry maids who kiss     Pale feet of moony Artemis.     Thy dreams! when, breasting matted weeds     Of Arethusa, thou didst hear     The music of the wind-swept reeds;     And down dim forest-ways drew near     Shy herds of slim Arcadian deer.     Thy wisdom! that knew naught but love     And beauty, with which love is fraught;     The wisdom of the heart - whereof     All noblest passions spring - that thought     As Nature thinks, "All else is naught."     Thy hope! wherein To-morrow set     No shadow; hope, that, lacking care     And retrospect, held no regret,     But bloomed in rainbows everywhere,     Filling with gladness all the air.     These were thine all: in all life's moods     Embracing all of happiness:     And when within thy long-loved woods     Didst lay thee down to die - no less     Thy happiness stood by to bless.