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First Line: A silver birch-tree like a sacred maid
Last Line: "shall whisper, ""hark! Who sang that love-song? Hark!"
Subject(s): Pan (mythology)


A SILVER birch-tree like a sacred maid
Set with a guard of stalwart hemlocks round,
Whose low-toned airs stole by with sighing sound,
Stirred, shivering slightly, as if half afraid
Where the black shadow crept along the ground.
Breathless she stood, -- as one whose work is stayed,
But threads her shuttle while her thought has strayed
To times when wild fauns haunted all the rills,
And piped among the deep noon-checkered hills
Till all the land with song was overlaid.
O Pan, dear Pan! come forth from out the dark
Of those dream days; outsing our thrush and lark
Till laughter-loving youths from windowsills
Shall whisper, "Hark! who sang that love-song? Hark!"





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