Author Thomas Stanley Dwell awfull Silence on the shady Hills Among the bleating flocks, and purling rills, When Pan the Reed doth to his lip apply , Inspiring it with sacred Harmony, Hydriads, and Hamadryads at that sound In a well order'd measure beat the ground. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments