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Ah, the gracious tyrannies

Of her finger-tips!

Silent, silent, silent,

All your voices now;
Was it then her life alone

Did your life endow?
Waken, throats of thunder!

Waken, dulcet lips !
Touched to immortality
By her finger-tips.

William Watson.

WITH PIPE AND FLUTE"

(To E. G.)

With pipe and Aute the rustic Pan
Of old made music sweet for man;

And wonder hushed the warbling bird,

And closer drew the calm-eyed herd, The rolling river slowlier ran.

Ah! would, - ah! would, a little span,
Some air of Arcady could fan
This age of ours, too seldom stirred

With pipe and Aute!

Dusic From painting by V. Hynais

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