Written on a Fly-Leaf of Theocritus

Those were good times, in olden days,   Of which the poet has his dreams, When gods beset the woodland ways,   And lay in wait by all the streams. One could be sure of something then   Severely simple, simply grand, Or keenly, subtly sweet, as when   Venus and Love went hand in hand. Now I would give (such is my need)   All the world’s store of rhythm and rhyme To see Pan fluting on a reed   And with his goat-hoof keeping time!