Doubt no more that Oberon—
     Never doubt that Pan
     Lived, and played a reed, and ran
     After nymphs in a dark forest,
     In the merry, credulous days,—
     Lived, and led a fairy band
     Over the indulgent land!
     Ah, for in this dourest, sorest
     Age man's eye has looked upon,
     Death to fauns and death to fays,
     Still the dog-wood dares to raise—
     Healthy tree, with trunk and root—
     Ivory bowls that bear no fruit,
     And the starlings and the jays—
     Birds that cannot even sing—
     Dare to come again in spring!


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