Mitchell Starrett Buck

“ Lysidice did not know who played, but her light steps quickened to the hurrying notes and soon she danced over the grass, waving her arms and turning her sweet face up toward the green leaves murmuring overhead.
An old man, passing the edge of the grove, saw the bright, dancing figure.
"There was a time when I, also, danced," he murmured to himself as he moved away. "I danced, yes, and others with me. But those days are past. Now it is the young ones' turn . . . It is not for long that they dance alone; Pan and Aphrodite will take care of that." ”

“ But Pan had no secrets from the summer sun.
All about, the leaves and branches cast shadow tracings on the warm grass. The bees droned from flower to flower upon their endless tasks and, from a distance, over the fields, came the soft call of a shepherd's pipes.
Lysidice was very happy, for the smiling world was kind to her and she loved the trees and the flowers. She was no longer a child. Since the winter past, she had been a woman grown; and soon, perhaps, she would be a wife. ”

“ Already the coronals were not wanting at her door; and Lacon, who was browned by the sun and smooth-limbed as Adonis, had offered to teach her how to play on his pipes. Her heart was full from the very joy of being alive, feeling about her the warm air and the wide world full of a thousand happy mysteries and promises. ”