Golden apples from the grove fall down the tree
   And make all the Bacchants gather in Arcady
   To dance on the Festival of the Tragedy
   And eat the fruits of ecstasy
   In the midwood twilight, on his pipe plays the faun
   In the green temple, from the dionysian days, watch the dawn.
   Goot-foot God rise your Rod, be free, know the world
   Hath need of thee and Arcady
   OOGoat-foot God, play your pipe, tonight, wild and free.
   Your melody out of Arcady