From Arcady

To you, that went from Arcady To follow after worldly shows, My songs shall bring unfailingly The scent of bay and forest rose. To follow after worldly shows You left our laurel-sheltered bourn. . . . The scent of bay and forest rose Too heavy lies on hearts forlorn. You left our laurel-sheltered bourn, Our love must wander desolate: Too heavy lies on hearts forlorn The fallen, faded petals' weight. Our love must wander desolate, Weaving in pain, to one wild dirge, The fallen, faded petals' weight, The rolling of a roted surge; Weaving in pain, to one wild dirge, The ancient, deep, foregone delight. . . . The rolling of a roted surge Returns around a pagan height. The ancient, deep, foregone delight Wakens the pastoral pipes again, Returns around a pagan height To call, nor always call in vain— Wakens the pastoral pipes again My songs shall bring unfailingly, To call, nor always call in vain To you, that went from Arcady.