Full Online Books
Authors Authors Short Stories Short Stories Long Stories Long Stories Funny Stories Funny Stories Love Stories Love Stories Stories For Kids Stories For Kids Poems Poems Essays Essays Nonfictions Nonfictions Plays Plays Folktales Folktales Fairy Tales Fairy Tales Fables Fables Learning Kitchen Learning Kitchen
Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional Free Classified Website Without Registration Free Classified Website Daniel Company
Twitter Twitter Add book
Full Online Book HomePoemsPandean Pipedreams
Famous Authors (View All Authors)
Pandean Pipedreams Post by :39364 Category :Poems Author :Bert Leston Taylor Date :October 2011 Read :2886

Click below to download : Pandean Pipedreams (Format : PDF)

Pandean Pipedreams

(Induced by smoking "Pagan Pickings.")


This is something that I heard,
As the fluting of a bird,
On a certain drowsy day,
When my pipe was under way.
I was weary of the town,
And the going up and down;
Sick of streets and sick of noise,--_
And I pined for Pagan joys.

Daphne, here it is July!
Just the month, my love, to fly
To a sylvan solitude
In the green and ancient wood.
We will trip it as we go
On the neo-Pagan toe,
Sunny days and starry nights,
Savoring the wild delights
Of a turbulent desire
That may set the wood on fire.

We will play at hunt-the-fawn,
In the neo-Dorian dawn.
You will scamper through the brake,
And I'll follow in your wake--

As the young Apollo ran
In the piping days of Pan.
You'll escape me, without doubt,
For I'm just a trifle stout;
But, when I have lagged behind,
Waiting for my second wynde,
From some pretty hiding-place
Will emerge your laughing face;
I shall glimpse your eyes of blue,
Hear your merry "Peek-a-boo!"

What to wear? The Pagan plan
Contemplates a coat of tan;
But I fear we shall require
Just a trifle more attire.
Bushes scratch and brambles sting;
Insect myriads are a-wing;--
Heavens, how mosquitoes swarm
When the woodland air is warm.
(MEM: To take, when we elope,
Tanglewood Mosquito Dope.)

Do you like the picture, dear?
Have you aught of doubt or fear?
Have you any criticism
Of my neo-Paganism?
If not, dearie, let us fly
To that passion-ripening sky,
Where our souls may have their fling,
And our every care take wing.

So the bird song fluted by,
Like a vagrant summer sigh--_
Came, and passed, and was no more;
And my pleasant dream was o'er.
For arose the wraith of Doubt;
And I knew my pipe was out.


This is something that befell
When my pipe was drawing well--_
Something, rather, that I heard
As the fluting of a bird.

Daphne, come and live with me
In a Pagan greenery.
Life will then be naught but play,
One long Pagan holiday.
We will play at hide and seek
In the alders by the creek;
Sport amid the cascade's smother.
Splashing water at each other;--
Every moment pleasure wooing,
Every moment something doing.
If we talk, we'll talk of Love:
All its arguments we'll prove.
Such a mental rest you'll find.
Leave your intellect behind.

Night will come, (for come it will,
'Spite the fluting on the hill,)
And we'll pitch a cozy camp
Where it isn't quite so damp.
While you dry your hair and laze
By the campfire's violet blaze,
I will rob a balsam tree
To construct a house for thee.
What so dear as to be wooed
In a sylvan solitude?

What so sweet as Pagan vows
Whispered in a house of boughs?
Pagan love's without alloy.
Pagan kisses never cloy.
Arms that cling in Pagan fashion
Never tire. A Pagan passion
Is the only kind I know
That outlives a winter's snow.
Daphne, Daphne, let us fly!
You're a Pagan--so am I.

So the fluting on the hill
Passed and died, and all was still.
So the Pagan Pickings died,
And I laid the pipe aside.

(The end)
Bert Leston Taylor's poem: Pandean Pipedreams

If you like this book please share to your friends :

The Laundry Of Life The Laundry Of Life

The Laundry Of Life
(An Adventure in Sentiment.) Life is a laundry in which we Are ironed out, or soon or late. Who has not known the irony Of fate? We enter it when we are born, Our colors bright. Full soon they fade. We leave it "done up," old and worn, And frayed; Frayed round

A Ballade Of The Cannery A Ballade Of The Cannery

A Ballade Of The Cannery
What of the phrases, long decayed, Of paleologic pedigree, Musty, moldy, frazzled, and frayed-- A doddering, dusty company? What shall be done with them? say we; And east and west the people bawl, Dump them into the Cannery!-- Into the brine go one and all. "Grilled" and "lauded" and "scored" and "flayed," "Common or garden variety," "Wave of crime" and "reform crusade,"