Pan
Do not lament this, who have known and lost me
With pale pastels and sounds of tuneless lyres,
I was the amber girl when first you found me,
The golden boy in the portal of new desires,
I was the wind of spring, the scent of roses,
I was the night, the garden, and I the fire,
The rod that wakes, the flower that disposes,
I the immortal singer, the song, the lyre.
I am the Autumn now, my winds are blowing
Blossoms of Summer barrenly they blow
Leaves and desires and summer hopes foreknowing
I shall be Winter and silence of the snow.
Still I am thine, O stricken heart, to follow
Past gale and glacier, where I brood alone,
Exultant, where all hopes and fears are hollow,
The core of steel within the heart of stone.
I, who am black and bleak with old disasters,
Was I not beautiful, and am I now the less
Than all the pale and pure and petty masters
That leave you now upon my wilderness?
Then will you date me, stinking and sardonic
Who called me, soft and lovely, by my name?
Embrace me then and feel my kiss demonic
Shatter the glacier and reveal the flame.
