But his eye, aloof and chill,
Said to me as plain as plain,
"I am waiting, waiting still,
Till the gods come back again;
Starved and ugly, mean, unkempt,
I have dreams by you undreamt,
And--I hold you in contempt!
"Dreams of forest routs that trooped,
Shadowy maidens crowned with vines,
Dreams where Dian's self has stooped
Darkling 'neath the scented pines;
Or where he, old father Pan,
Took the hooves of me and ran
Fluting through the heart of man.
"Surely he must come again,
He the great, the horned one?
Shan't I caper in his train
Through the hours of feast and fun!"
And he looked with eyes of jade
Through the sunshine, through the shade,
Far beyond Marine Parade.
* * * * *
Should you go to Pebble Bay,
Golfing or to bathe and boat--
Should you see a loaded shay,
In the shafts a scarecrow goat,
Tell him that you hope (with me)
Pan will shortly set him free,
Pipe him home to Arcady.
* * * * *
CRICKET NOTES.
Mr. P.F. WARNER has received countless expressions of regret on his
retirement from first-class cricket. Among these he values not least a
"round robin" from the sparrows at Lord's, all of whom he knows by name. In
the score-book of Fate is this entry in letters of gold:
"Plum" _c_ Anno _b_ Domini 47.
Long may he live to enjoy the cricket of others!
* * * * *
The test team of Australia being now complete, all correspondence on the
subject of its exclusions must cease.
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