arnold Bocklin (1827) " idyll" oil on canvas

Pan, blow your pipes and I will be
Your fern, your pool, your dream, your tree!
I heard you play, caught your swift eye,
"A pretty melody!" called I,
"Hail, Pan!" And sought to pass you by.
Now blow your pipes and I will sing
To your sure lips' accompanying!
Wild God, who lifted me from earth,
Who taught me freedom, wisdom, mirth,
Immortalized my body's worth, --
Blow, blow your pipes! And from afar
I'll come -- I'll be your bird, your star,
Your wood, your nymph, your kiss, your rhyme,
And all your godlike summer-time!

Leonora Speyer (1872)
' a note from the pipes'