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WITH pipe and flute the rustic Pan
Of old made music sweet for man;
And wonder hushed the warbling bird,
And closer drew the calm-eyed herd,—
The rolling river slowlier ran.
Ah! would,—ah! would, a little span,
Some air of Arcady could fan
This age of ours, too seldom stirred
With pipe and flute!
But now for gold we plot and plan;
And, from Beersheba unto Dan,
Apollo’s self might pass unheard,
Or find the night-jar’s note preferred;—
Not so it fared, when time began,
With pipe and flute!
Austin Henry Dobson
Read poems about / on: river, music, night, time, running
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Austin Henry Dobson
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