The knights of old are long since dead— What can I bring you, little man? The dancers' feet are shod with lead And silent are the pipes of Pan. Silent are the pipes of Pan And weeping, oh, and weeping, oh! The waiting elves in misery go To drink the tears of man. Pale ashes are the gypsy coals Faint traceries of fire Where once the substance leaped and twirled Into a nice desire. And silent are the pipes of Pan And weeping, oh, and weeping, oh! The waiting elves in misery go To drink the tears of man. Endymion kissed has lost his voice The passion of his song Is not of youth; alas, that he With death convenes too long. And weeping, oh, and weeping, oh! The waiting elves in misery go To drink the tears of man. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BARBER'S by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE FLOWER-GATHERING by ROBERT FROST TO THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE, IN NEW-ENGLAND by PHILLIS WHEATLEY LONDON SURVEYED AND ILLUSTRATED by JOHANNEM ADAMUS |