I + 

O goat-foot God of Arcady! + 

This modern world is grey and old, + 

And what remains to us of thee? + 

No more the shepherd lads in glee + 

Throw apples at thy wattled fold, + 

O goat-foot God of Arcady! + 

Nor through the laurels can one see + 

Thy soft brown limbs, thy beard of gold, + 

And what remains to us of thee? + 

And dull and dead our Thames would be, + 

For here the winds are chill and cold, + 

O goat-foot God of Arcady! + 

Then keep the tomb of Helicé, + 

Thine olive-woods, thy vine-clad wold, + 

And what remains to us of thee? + 

Though many an unsung elegy + 

Sleeps in the reeds our rivers hold, + 

O goat-foot God of Arcady! + 

Ah, what remains to us of thee? + 