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Title: In Arcadia
Author: John Presland [
More Titles by Presland]
See how Pan through the forest goes,
The forest of Arcadia,
Giving a sidelong leer at the rose,
Trampling the daisies with hairy toes,
And wrinkling his ugly gnarled old nose,
In the forest of Arcadia.
Evil and ugly, Pan is bored,
In the forest of Arcadia;
Tired of hours with honey stored,
What diversion can it afford
The whole green forest of which he's lord,
The forest of Arcadia?
Till suddenly, the glimpse of a face
In the forest of Arcadia!
In the verdant depths where leaves enlace,
And dapple with shadow the body's grace--
And Pan, with a snort, gives the Dryad chase,
In the forest of Arcadia.
She is off, on the nimblest of little feet,
In the forest of Arcadia;
Light as a bird where the treetops meet,
For with sudden terror her pulses beat,
And desire has made the old god fleet,
In the forest of Arcadia.
Milk-white down the long green avenues,
In the forest of Arcadia,
Like a dove she flies, and he pursues,
Like a hungry hawk when its prey it views--
--And Zeus, on Olympus, prepares a ruse
For the forest of Arcadia.
Nearer draws Pan, with outstretched hand,
In the forest of Arcadia,
To grasp her long hair's floating strand;
--But Zeus, with Olympian wink, had planned
That another form for the girl's should stand
In the forest of Arcadia.
And the poor old sinner who thought to seize,
In the forest of Arcadia,
The daintiest thing that sense could tease,
Found only a satyr if you please,
As like himself as peas to peas,
In the forest of Arcadia.
[The end]
John Presland's poem: In Arcadia
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