Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, PAN'S PROPHECY, SELECTION, by THOMAS STURGE MOORE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

PAN'S PROPHECY, SELECTION, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I am old and wise and strong
Last Line: Complain they that their age grows cold?
Alternate Author Name(s): Moore, T. Sturge
Subject(s): Old Age


I AM old and wise and strong,
Hale, and still inclined to song;
And the morning I salute
Loud upon my oaten flute;
Then, ardent o'er my ranked pipes bending,
Match the sky-lark's song ascending;
With pursed lips hovering o'er each reed,
From deep to treble on I speed,
And surprise him in the blue
With earth-born echo clear and true.
And sometimes, when the rustling breeze
Draws hints of music from the trees,
I nurse and fondle their beginning,
Chord to mate with chord still winning,
Rearing the infant tune to express
All a dryad's happiness.
Next bend mine eyes to worship flowers;
This tip-toe on a slim stalk towers,
Pride at one with innocence
Like a child in a new wimple;
This other, under leafage dense,
Sure of being searched for, simple
Yet counting upon beauty's power,
Content to wait its triumph's hour.
How the gracious ferns expand
Like a sleeping infant's hand!
And their growth acquires greatness
As a boy-king's soul sedateness.
For them, belike, the trees are gods,
Whom they wonder of and trust,
And augur from their drowsy nods
Till the autumn, when they rust;
Their glades then gorgeous to behold,
Complain they that their age grows cold?





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