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!