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 Light wafted along on the tremulous gale:

So passionate-sweet, so wildly out-welling,

That Landon hears it with bosom swelling.

We listen and sigh,—sigh and listen again,

For we know it is Pan by that melting strain!

We listen and sigh,—sigh and listen again,

While the lithe reeds quiver as if in pain,—

For we know it is Pan, we know it is Pan,

We know it is Pan by that melting strain!