Pipes O' Pan At Zekesbury
The pipes of Pan! Not idler now are they Than when their cunning fashioner first blew The pith of music from them: Yet for you And me their notes are blown in many a way Lost in our murmurings for that old day That fared so well, without us. - Waken to The pipings here at hand: - The clear halloo Of truant-voices, and the roundelay The waters warble in the solitude Of blooming thickets, where the robin's breast Sends up such ecstacy o'er dale and dell, Each tree top answers, till in all the wood There lingers not one squirrel in his nest Whetting his hunger on an empty shell.
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"The pipes of Pan! Not idler now are they..."
James Whitcomb Riley's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Pipes O' Pan At Zekesbury"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...