Poem: Santa Decca

The Gods are dead:  no longer do we bring

上海龙凤shlf最新地址To grey-eyed Pallas crowns of olive-leaves!

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Demeter's child no more hath tithe of sheaves,

And in the noon the careless shepherds sing,

For Pan is dead, and all the wantoning

By secret glade and devious haunt is o'er:

Young Hylas seeks the water-springs no more;

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Great Pan is dead, and Mary's son is King.

And yet - perchance in this sea-tranced isle,

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Chewing the bitter fruit of memory,

Some God lies hidden in the asphodel.

Ah Love! if such there be, then it were well

For us to fly his anger:  nay, but see,

The leaves are stirring:  let us watch awhile.

CORFU.