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The
Iceberg and Other Poems
by
Charles G.D. Roberts
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PAN
AND THE ROSE
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CAME
Pan to the garden
On a golden morning,
With the dew of the thickets
Adrip on his thighs.
He thrust through the hollyhocks, |
5 |
Stamped
the bright marigolds,
And scanned pale Dianthe
With indifferent eyes.
But aloof in the garden
He spied one blossom,
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10 |
A rose
but half open
To the insistent sun,—
Her petals enclosing
The dew of young ecstasy,
The perilous perfume |
15 |
| Of life
just begun.
His hot heart pounding
In his shaggy bosom,
The tender red petals
To his lips he drew.
|
20 |
With
aching rapture
And a wild, wild wonder,
He drained the distillage
Of that honeyed dew.
*
* * *
* *
And
ever thereafter
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25 |
He needs
must wander,
Piping his lone plaint
Beside the shadowy stream,—
Nor heeds the enticing
Of white nymphs in the copses,— |
30 |
His
heart tormented,
And his parched lips thirsting
For the draught that assuages them
No longer save in dream. |
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