For sudden Pan comes ... e’er you grasp for his cheer,
Sudden he’s sung, and away.
Away from the heart of everyday folk
To the hills where the west wind blows;
Laughing and dancing and chasing the bees ...
(How dreary for them just to hum in their hives!)
When the brown brook is gurgling, and sings as it flows,
And the blood-red poppy smiles as it blows ...
Over the hills, and away ...
Smiles that Pan comes ... e’er you see him, he goes ...