“O Pan, avert from this maiden
Sorrow, misfortune, bereavement,
Harm, and unhappy regret,” 15
Prays one fond mortal.
XLV
Softer than the hill-fog to the forest
Are the loving hands of my dear lover,
When she sleeps beside me in the starlight
And her beauty drenches me with rest.
As the quiet mist enfolds the beech-trees, 5
Even as she dreams her arms enfold me,
Half awaking with a hundred kisses
On the scarlet lily of her mouth.
XLVI
I seek and desire,
Even as the wind
That travels the plain
And stirs in the bloom
Of the apple-tree. 5
I wander through life,
With the searching mind
That is never at rest,
Till I reach the shade
Of my lover’s door. 10
XLVII
Like torn sea-kelp in the drift
Of the great tides of the sea,
Carried past the harbour-mouth
To the deep beyond return,
I am buoyed and borne away 5
On the loveliness of earth,
Little caring, save for thee,
Past the portals of the night.