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Hymn to Pan

…woods, on the marble mount, ‘The dimpled dawn of the amber fount! Dip the purple of passionate prayer In the crimson shrine, the scarlet snare, The soul that startles in eyes of blue To watch thy wantonness weeping through ‘The tangled grove, the gnarled bole Of the living tree that is spirit and sou! ‘And body and brain—come over the sea, (Go Pan! Io Pan!) Devil or god, to me, to me, ‘My man! my man! ‘Come with trumpets sounding shrill ‘Over the hill! Come with drums low muttering From the spring! ‘Come with flute and come with pipe! ‘Am I not…