A Glimpse of Pan

I caught but a glimpse of him. Summer was here.     And I strayed from the town and its dust and heat.     And walked in a wood, while the noon was near,     Where the shadows were cool, and the atmosphere     Was misty with fragrances stirred by my feet     From surges of blossoms that billowed sheer     Of the grasses, green and sweet.     And I peered through a vista of leaning tree,     Tressed with long tangles of vines that swept     To the face of a river, that answered these     With vines in the wave like the vines in the breeze,     Till the yearning lips of the ripples crept     And kissed them, with quavering ecstasies,     And wistfully laughed and wept     And there, like a dream in swoon, I swear     I saw Pan lying, his limbs in the dew     And the shade, and his face in the dazzle and glare     Of the glad sunshine; while everywhere,     Over across, and around him blew     Filmy dragon-flies hither and there,     And little white butterflies, two and two,     In eddies of odorous air.