Yesterday, on a path deep in the woods, Where I sometimes walk to dream away my moods, I met three satyrs: one bore a leathern flask Yet tumbled hither and yon; the second's task To wield an olive branch like Hercules. Twilight came down upon denuded trees, Whose crown along the earth the autumn spread. And the third satyr, on a mound ahead, Moving his lips upon his rustic reed With agile fingers gave the music speed, Fine and yet full, agreeable though frantic: And his two comrades, frisking to the antic, Dropping the club and flask, in corybantic Revel danced and—as the goat-foot heaves— Alternate whirled away the dying leaves. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BENEDICTION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE OCTOROON by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DR. SCUDDER'S CLINICAL LECTURE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN GRANTCHESTER MEADOWS; ON HEARING A SKYLARK SING by GEORGE SANTAYANA |