with a snake's head;
thus is the Questing-Beast
of King Arthur, it is said.
Pursue it, go pursue it;
keep on the creature's tail.
But hunter you'll not bag it.
It's allusive as the Holy-Grail !
You'd like it to be crystal clear.
Or in a smoking-mirror appear
your futurity and your fate.
Your life soon, your body late.
Take things, girl, as they come and go.
Why widen worry with such a window?
Run from Pan's very-desirous needs.
Run from Pan, towards the reeds
and bullrushes of river or lake.
Run Syrinx, for Zeus's sake !
Change into a clump of reeds do,
Pan will make pipes and music of you !