The Gathering Poem by john thomas

Out of the mists of eternal night
Bourne on the tail of a zephyr’s flight
Danced the lingering pipes of Pan,

Light carried o’er the cotton grass
Where soft the notes did gently pass,
Not meant for ears of Man,

Yet urgent feet did run amok
For merrily danced the fairy Puck –
Among that dovish fan,

And drawn those feet to azure dell
From where Pan’s notes did ebb and swell,
And Oberon once ran,

Come, come and spin in eternal trance,
Tho’ you’ll never leave this shaman’s dance!