Bewitched by Diana's despondent beam
I turned down the wooded willow green.
I had no prayers - no sketch in picture -
Yet cheerily, did he reveal his state.
There! The fawned shoulders starred,
The whiskers of diverse forest protector.
I saw hooves, accommodate as Gaia's bed
And sour brightness, that crowned his director.
Struck in awe at his terrific standard
My oral cavity did fall the name of light;
And pausing, he turned and smiled at me
Later than stand facing dated, pure and free.
Sweet reeds of the seventh did he work out
To reel the mystic song of life's past;
And world charisma, believed her tip-off,
His beauty to keep and consider.
Oh would I!
That he guideth me nigh.
Volley Pan!
Volley cloven hooved God of last!
