Seem’d comrade to it. Whispering Zephyrus
Tender as love, stole through the list’ning leaves,
Making a pleasant murmur in the night,
And touched the glimmering waters with his breath.
The ripples came unnumbered to the shore,
Soft-murmuring through the sedge and fenny reeds
With that same whisp’ring voice that Pan once heard
What time he first made pipes to sound the praise
Of her whom he had lost. The water’s breast
Was banded with a path of shimmering light