Listen now, Great Pan he calls us From the green wood in his grove 'neath the waxing moon above us Hear his clear flute sweet and low Hear his clear flute sweet and low
Follow in the dance he's leading Circle 'round the fire's glow Come and drink the wine he pours us From the tangled vines that grow From the tangled vines that grow From the tangled vines that grow
Listen now and I shall follow Listen now and I may follow
Listen now and I will follow
Out of the mid-wood's twilight Into the meadow's dawn Ivory limbed and brown eyed Flashes the Faun
He skips through the copses singing And his shadow dances along And I know not which I should follow Shadow or Song
O Hunter, snare me his shadow O Nightingale, catch me his strain Else moonstruck with music and madness I track him in vain."