PUFFED up with luring to her knees
  The rabbits from the blackberries,
  Quaint little satyrs, and shy and mute,
  That limped reluctant to the flute,
  She needs must seek the forest’s womb
  And pipe up tigers from green gloom.

Grouped round the dreaming oaten quill
Those sumptuous savages were still,
Rich spectral beasts...