Ode on aggression earn, Thou still unravished bride of quietness, Thou foster child of silence and slow time, Sylvan historian, who can thus express a flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme, what leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape, of deities, or mortals, or of both, in temper, or the dails of arkity. What men, or gods, are these? What maidens, loath, what mad pursuit, what struggle to escape, what pipes and timbrels, what wild ecstasy? Bad melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter, therefore ye soft pipes play on, not to the sensual ear, but more endeared pipe to the spirit, deities of no tone. Fair youth beneath the trees, Thou canst not leave thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare, bold lover, never, never canst thou kiss, though winning near the goal, yet do not grieve, she cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, forever will thou love, and she be fair. Na happy, happy bows, that cannot shed your leaves, nor ever bid the spring adieu, and happy melladist unwirried, forever piping songs, forever new, more happy love, more happy, happy love, forever warm, and still to be enjoyed, forever panting, and forever young. All breathing human passion far above, that leaves heart high sorrowful and clawed, a burning forehead, and a parching tongue. Who are these coming to the sacrifice? To what a green altar, oh mysterious priest, leads thou that heifer, lowing at the skies, and all has silken flanks with garland's dressed? What little town, by river, or sea-shore, or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, is emptied of this folk, this pious mourn? And little town, thy streets forever more will silent be, and not a soul to tell why thou art desolate, can air return. Oh, attic shape, fair attitude, with breed of marble men and maidens overwrought, with forest branches in the trotten weed, thou, silent form, does tease us out of thought as doth eternity. Cold pastoral, when old age shall this generation waste, thou shalt remain in midst of other woe than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou sayest, beauty is truth, truth beauty. That is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.