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Robert Frost - Pan with Us

Pan came out of the woods one day,--
His skin and his hair and his eyes were gray,
The gray of the moss of walls were they,--
And stood in the sun and looked his fill
At wooded valley and wooded hill.

He stood in the zephyr, pipes in hand,
On a height of naked pasture land;
In all the country he did command
He saw no smoke and he saw no roof.
That was well! and he stamped a hoof.

His heart knew peace, for none came here
To this lean feeding save once a year
Someone to salt the half-wild steer,
Or homespun children with clicking pails
Who see so little they tell no tales.

He tossed his pipes, too hard to teach
A new-world song, far out of reach,
For sylvan sign that the blue jay's screech
And the whimper of hawks beside the sun
Were music enough for him, for one.

Times were changed from what they were:
Such pipes kept less of power to stir
The fruited bough of the juniper
And the fragile bluets clustered there
Than the merest aimless breath of air.

They were pipes of pagan mirth,
And the world had found new terms of worth.
He laid him down on the sun-burned earth
And raveled a flower and looked away--
Play? Play?--What should he play?

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Added: Feb 1 2004 | Viewed: 15762 times | Comments and analysis of Pan with Us by Robert Frost Comments (6)

Pan with Us - Comments and Information

Poet: Robert Frost
Poem: 23. Pan with Us
Volume: A Boy's Will
Year: Published/Written in 1913

Comment 6 of 6, added on July 18th, 2014 at 2:42 PM.
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Comment 4 of 6, added on January 17th, 2006 at 4:52 PM.

I did a project on this poem in school this year. My teacher never saw it before. My poetry group thought that it was telling of the death of Pan by unbelief in him (the spread of Christianity and industry). It's odd, though, that Pan is the only Greek god who died and people still worship him.

Rachel Sheldon from United States

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