Bareheaded to winds of summer,
Through the sun-flecked wood you ran,
And sudden a veil was lifted--
I saw you other than man,
Supple and swift and careless,
In days when the world began.
Under the oaks and beeches,
By an ancient music drawn--
The pipes of the Goat-foot, fluting
To-day as in years of dawn--
Through the tangled gleams and shadows
Leapt, laughing--a golden faun.
