Come, Pan, and Pipe
Come, Pan, and pipe upon the reed,
And make the mellow music bleed,
As once it did in days of yore,
Along the brook’s leaf-tangled shore,
Through sylvan shade and fragrant mead.
On Hybla honey come and feed,—
To tempt the Fauns in dance to lead
The Dryads on the mossy floor,—
Come, Pan, and pipe!
To-day the ghosts,—Gold, Gain, and Greed,
The world pursues with savage speed:
Forgotten is your magic lore.
Oh, bring it back to us once more!
For simple, rustic song we plead:
Come, Pan, and pipe!
Frank Dempster Sherman.