Sunday, January 15, 2012

  • "I don't suppose I'll ever see
  • A dryad slipping from her tree
  • Nor hear the pulsing pipes of Pan
  • (although at times I think I can)
  • Nor see the moon-nymphs dance at night
  • And yet perhaps . . . perhaps I might.
  • I watch the waves break on the rocks
  • And, in between the thundered shocks
  • I think that I can almost hear
  • The sirens singing sweet and clear.
  • Sometimes the shadows on a tree
  • Like dappled fauns appear to me
  • And once beside a blue lagoon
  • Beneath a witching tropic moon
  • I saw the flash of silver scales
  • (the kind that grow on mermaid's tails)
  • I don't suppose I'll ever see
  • These things that mean so much to me
  • But if I watch by night, by day,
  • You cannot tell . . . perhaps I may."

-- Don Blanding, 1928

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