In branches gold that tranquil blaze, I pass the autumn of my days
And so the days of lustful youth in search of evanescent truth
I found the glory of the hour in the sweetest, greenest bower
That overhung the summer glade, all noisome thoughts in me forbade
In faerie morns of silver dawns that kiss the eyelids of the faun
The hoary wonders of the trees whose breath and voice are but the breeze
That plays through lover's hair as oft as fain would dance with boughs aloft
Who swells the heralds of the sky, those billowing chieftains of the sky
And o'er the hills that crack and groan, the timeless seats of fleeting thrones
The battered ribs of earth's great chest, beneath at last all men must rest
A pagan host thence silent wed to bear up those who on them tread
And yet the years before me roll as softy as the furrowed knoll
Whereon the sweeping grass yet waves amidst the gloaming evening haze
Pan's woody breath about my ears, I wait serene the coming years.
A poem inspired by my friend Ang, and her lovely photograph, seen above, and linked here: http://mstargazer.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d35gqcp
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