| Robert Graves (1895–1985). Fairies and Fusiliers. 1918. |
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| 20. Faun |
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| HERE down this very way, | |
| Here only yesterday | |
| King Faun went leaping. | |
| He sang, with careless shout | |
| Hurling his name about; | 5 |
| He sang, with oaken stock | |
| His steps from rock to rock | |
| In safety keeping, | |
| “Here Faun is free, | |
| Here Faun is free!” | 10 |
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| Today against yon pine, | |
| Forlorn yet still divine, | |
| King Faun leant weeping. | |
| “They drank my holy brook, | |
| My strawberries they took, | 15 |
| My private path they trod.” | |
| Loud wept the desolate God, | |
| Scorn on scorn heaping, | |
| “Faun, what is he? | |
| Faun, what is he?” | 20 |
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