Midsummer Magic
In the dimness and the gloaming of the green and bosky dell,
From the distance comes the echo of the tinkling heifer's bell,
From the reeds along the river pipes the frog his serenade
To his love on mossy tree trunk, deep with rushes overlaid.
From the distance comes the echo of the tinkling heifer's bell,
From the reeds along the river pipes the frog his serenade
To his love on mossy tree trunk, deep with rushes overlaid.
Bright the moon with silver radiance glides serenely through the sky,
Turning now to peace and fragrance sorrows of the day gone by—
One can almost hear the echo, in these latter days of man,
Of the music, dim and distant, of the far-off pipes of Pan.
Turning now to peace and fragrance sorrows of the day gone by—
One can almost hear the echo, in these latter days of man,
Of the music, dim and distant, of the far-off pipes of Pan.
Aetat 12.
