#satyr glades

[pistachiozombie]

[Satyr Glades] Princess Leanna and Boru's little sapling, Myrra, nicknamed Pebble ♥ she blep

[magentainks]

My two Artfight submissions so far!

Scenes from magical glades are kind of my jam.

[scalpelsister]

making friends in the sylvan glade 🦋

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Satyr König who is always chasing and herding poor nymph!reader and the other pretty nymph ladies around the shallow water where they played and giggled until this giamt horny beast appeared with his leaking cock and wanted to mate with them >:(

But honestly König doesn't care anymore, he wants to breed with the pretty nymphs and if that means getting overstimulated with how much you and the other girls are riding him then he'll happily accept such 'punishment'! He's awfull! But his balls are full and heavy and he's very virile so it's so big deal at all♡

Satyr!König is an absolute pervert, a lustful rural god as they say. Of course he's watching naked, unsuspecting nymphs playing in the water, chasing each other in the middle of a glade!

CW: Exhibitionism & masturbation. König getting frustrated with a bunch of nymphs because no one wants to mate with him.

They haven't seen him yet, slowly stroking his cock behind a tree. Grinding his hips against his hand, imitating thrusting inside a woman even if it's just his large, hard fist he's fucking here, their giggles make his tip wet as they splash water all over themselves. Sweet, soft bodies glisten in the sun, dozens of nipples perk up from the cold water, these nymphs are making his cock leak all over the ground :(

It's their fault for being so cute; he really has no choice but to start a little chase. First, he tries to walk into the sunny view, cock hard and very presentable, but to his great fury, the nymphs just scream and scatter like dandelion seeds in the wind.

He tries to catch them, even just one of them, to bully with his cock, but they start to play with him when they notice they're faster than a clumsy old faun. He almost snatches one by the waist, but the nymph turns into a young willow and he finds himself only humping against the soft bark of a tree.

Hearing a chime of giggles all around him, his cock gives another angry pull. They're laughing at him stumbling around like a centaur, or worse yet, they're laughing at his cock that's twitching and leaking between his hairy thighs, deprived of a woman's warmth :(

He's being played like a fool, and he throws his head back in the middle of the glen and roars, scaring away birds and squirrels with a mighty, furious bellow.

He just wanted to give them his seed, maybe tickle them with his tongue, but if they're going to make fun of him like this, he'll show them what they're missing... He'll show them what happens when you play cat and mouse with a horny god.

Catching his throbbing cock in an angry fist, he starts to stroke himself and play with his balls, the hairiest and heaviest part of all fauns. Knows that the dumb little creatures are watching with wide eyes and dropped jaws even if their stupid giggles have stopped.

The forest has fallen silent, and that's exactly what he wants. There's no bright laughter anymore, only fascinated, soft whispering all around him as he groans and moans, the thick release not far away as he imagines himself fucking a pretty nymph who's hungry and desperate for his cock. If no one's going to take up on this thick, hairy offer, he's going to ruin their day and cover their little nymph glade with seed...

[herbgerblin]

ID: A comic featuring the characters Captain K. P. Hob, and Delloso de la Rue from A Court of Fey and Flowers. Hob is a tall, male bugbear, wearing a formal military uniform. He is up in the boughs of a tree, looking down at Rue. Rue is depicted as a tall, feminine presenting nonbinary fey with long, wavy hair, and a slim build. They are wearing a robinhood-esque outfit. In the top panel, Hob says, "Rue, I worry about you in the glade there in the open. There is space in my hiding spot for two if you would wish to join me." Rue replies, while looking a bit flustered, "You are asking me to go up there and stay next to your mud-covered body?" End ID.

ID: A collection of drawings of Delloso de la Rue and Wuvy, a female Satyr with curly hair, a slim build, long curled horns, and fuzzy goat legs. From left to right, starting from the top, Rue is writing a letter while blushing and speaking aloud. They state, "And as you grabbed me by the wrist and looked into my eyes, I felt something I've never known before." behind them, Wuvy is gasping in shock. The next drawing is of Rue wearing their seafoam court outfit, while calling out, "Oh Wuvy!" Wuvy poofs into view right beside them, looking very stressed. The bottom left shows Rue weeping and covering their mouth, as they watch Wuvy burn a letter in her hands. A few tears form in Wuvy's eyes as she obediently does so. Bottom right is Wuvy struggling to hold a large confetti cannon in her arms. A few flecks of bright-colored confetti fall out. End ID.

There's something in the air..

[wordstome]

Satyr!König has me in a tizzy, because what do you mean there's a 6'7-6'10 buff as hell dude with a massive tool and no one has banged him yet??? Bbg... you're not hearding me into your den. What's happening is that I'M leading you to my secluded little glade every night so we can romantically fuck nasty underneath the moonlight! If one else wants him, then I want him!!!

this is the energy!!!!!!!!!!! he may be nasty but so are we!!!!!!!

[eleganthologramcolor]

I hope this isn't too far niche BUT....

Fantasy based COD AU, with any kind of traveler!141 x mythical!reader

(This one will be knight!Ghost x satyr!reader. Other magical critters will be assigned to the other members!)

Warnings: hybrid elements

No pronouns used.

Old fashioned, a classic, but starting off with Ghost as a knight, or maybe a simply a traveling warrior. When he wasn't busying himself with a quest in exchange for his place to stay, he found himself wandering along the edges of one of the largest forests in any of the maps he owned. There was a clean path worn down in the grass and flowers from many others who'd traveled through there, but he found himself itching today. Itching to see what was in the dense center of the tangles of branches and vines, past the clouds of mist and gnats that hung over the ponds and creeks that delicately lined the worn trail. With heavy and careful steps, still in his armor, he steps over the trickle of cold water and into the tall grass, cutting down his own path so the way back would be clear.

The deeper he travels into the trees, the more he regrets not stopping at his hidden alcove before making the trek, at least to remove the armor and gear underneath. The air is sticky, and even if the sun is filtered by the trees, they only serve to trap the heat beneath them. He's about to turn back when he hears a sweet call.

It's not unlike a bird call, but it's more, deliberate, almost clumsy. He would ignore it, except it's most definitely unlike any bird he's heard before, it's more melodical, sweet, and he steps forward slowly to prevent his plating from scraping against itself too suddenly when he sees you.

A pure sight, a wild critter, playing in a glade he can only just barely make out through the trees, your ears perked and a fluffy tail wagging behind you.

Ghost had never seen a satyr before, he knew such creatures existed, yet seeing one off the yellowed pages and frolicking over the wildflowers and buzzing insects, trilling oh so sweetly as you bounce playfully alongside the smaller critters you happen to frighten out of their hiding spaces.

Your body is bare, a sweet forest dweller like you doesn't need to be bound in fabric during weather like this! With soft, furry legs and a body softened by a cozy life under trees that offer you comfort and bearing armfulls of ripe fruit. With the bright flicks of color from the flower petals clinging to your legs and the plush of your belly, something stirs in his chest, and when you tumble during your play, his heart jolts and he swears that the damned thing was beating out of his ribcage and against the plating over his chest, because you suddenly turn, spotting him through the trees as well, and all is still until you scamper away, shy of the stranger in your safe haven.

In very universe and every life he finds himself craving what he is not. His heart aches to feel something soft against its own hardened vessel, for something smooth, plush and unharmed to fill in the gaps and ridges adorning his body, for curious and loving hands to practice mental cartography over his scars. He unknowingly stumbled upon an empty heaven, only to discover it to be a stage for a fluffy and sweet angel.

Ghost doesn't know how he'd do it, but somehow he has to return to the hidden clearing and coax you out of hiding, maybe if he'd offer treats from the bakery in his village? He suddenly finds himself fantasizing about holding a pastry out at arms length, crouched down to appear smaller, holding very still as you approach oh-so-cautiously, flinching at every breath he takes, yet not shying away, taking slow and gentle steps towards him. He'd coo and reassure you, and return every day with another treat for you, refraining from spoiling you until the day you clamber into his lamp, chittering up at him sweetly, waiting for your daily snack with pretty, glossy eyes and ears perked atop your head, inquisitive and sweet.

[blackbacchus999]

Poem by: John Karneios Auletta

Hymn to the Fluid Soul

O whispered winds, caress the grove,

Where liquid forms in shadow rove,

In twilight’s blush and dawn’s embrace,

A dance of grace, an endless space.

In sylvan glades where Satyrs do play,

The gods of old in wild array,

Their forms alight with shifting hues,

Embrace the dawn, the twilight fuse.

Dionysus, in His splendor wanders,

Through realms where gender bends & ponders,

In nature’s pulse and rhythms fine,

Where serpents shift and birds entwine.

The nymphs, the satyrs, fluid, true,

In every stream & in every dew,

A river's flow, a mountain's mist,

In boundless form, in freedom kissed.

O timeless gods, in wonder’s name,

Your beauty flows beyond the frame,

A Dionysian world where all can blend,

In every curve & in every bend.

[gabessquishytum]

Re: yan anon’s satyr idea (tw for dubcon btw)

Hob ends up back in his own bed and everything, but he’s still got the bruises and he’s sore as all hell. He tries to go back to his normal life, he stays away from the part of the woods where he found dream, he doesn’t listen to the music, even going as far as to wear earplugs. But. He just can’t stop thinking about dream fucking him. Eventually he can’t go half an hour without thinking of dreams otherworldly song and his huge cock pounding into him.

He’s so so horny but he can’t get off as easily anymore, nothing is as good as dream. He tries fucking himself but it’s just not big enough and not forceful enough and overall just not as good. He’s so sexually frustrated and he can’t stop thinking about the satyr in the forest, and he knows he shouldn’t go back and it feels shameful to go back, especially when he wasn’t meant to like it the first time.

But he can’t help himself. Eventually he finds himself taking that same path back and desperately searching for dream, and he knows what he’s getting into this time.

-💍 anon (sorry it’s been so long lol I’ve been busy)

Hnnnnnggg yes. Just imagine Dream’s shock and awe when this silly little human stumbles into his glade for the second time. Dream is just like hello??? again??? Genuinely confused.

Hob just drops on his knees and begs to be taken again. He can't sleep, he can't eat, he can't cope, he can't go back to living like nothing happened. He wants to be grabbed and pressed into the ground again, to feel every single on of his senses totally overwhelmed by Dream, Dream and nothing else.

Nobody has ever actually asked Dream before. Nobody has ever come back after a first encounter. He doesn't know what to do with this human who is begging him for a boon. The boon of Dream’s touch.

So he does what he does best, and he flees... only this time, it's Hob doing the chasing. And he won't rest until he's got Dream inside him again.

[mythologer]

REST AFTER DEBAUCHERY

Attributed to Francesco da Sangallo. Reclining Pan (aka the Barberini Pan). c. 1535. White reused classical marble with colored marble details. 134 cm long. Saint Louis Art Museum.

This handsome sculpture was acquired by the Barberini family in the early 17th century. At that time, the family collection was overseen by Cardinal Francesco Barberini, the nephew of Pope Urban VIII. The sculpture stayed in the collection until 1947, when the cash-strapped heirs of the Pope and Cardinal sold it to the Saint Louis Art Museum (SLAM) via a middleman. I'm not sure how the sale was allowed, but the museum website obliquely mentions that the sale was facilitated due to legislation enacted under Benito Mussolini.

The work depicts the lustful Arcadian god of forests, fields, and glades lying on his back in a splay-legged fashion holding a reed pipe (syrinx) in his right hand while his right arm is coddling a wineskin that once served as a fountain. His left arm is draped over his head, and his left hand is fondling a goat skin he is wearing around his neck. A salamander scurries amongst clusters of grapes at his feet (hooves). It appears he may be recovering from Bacchanalian debauchery or the unsuccessful pursuit of Syrinx as a love interest.

The sculpture was thought to be a work of antiquity until the 19th century, when it was determined to be a 16th-century work in the Florentine tradition. The initial knee-jerk attribution reaction was to claim it was by the hand of Michelangelo. When it entered the SLAM collection, it was attributed to Giovanni Angelo Montorsoli, a pupil of Michelangelo. Dr. Judith Mann, the curator of SLAM's European art, now gives it to Francesco da Sangallo, an assistant to Michelangelo. Dr. Fernando Loffredo contests this attribution to Sangallo, arguing it should be given to Giacomo da Cassignola. The art of connoisseurship has not provided a slam-dunk candidate in this case (pun intended).

There are two major reasons why the work was considered to be ancient for centuries: (1) it was repurposed from ancient marble recycled from a 2nd-century frieze (portions of an ancient relief are still visible on the backside of the sculpture - see the comments), and (2) it purposely imitated antique forms. Using Italian art history terms, the artist created an "all'antica" statue using "marmi antichi."

Unlike some examples of actual antique sculptures whose subjects are also reclining in a splay-legged fashion (e.g., the famous and heavily-restored Barberini Faun in Munich and a bronze Drunken Satyr in Naples), this work provides its subject with a modicum of privacy. Rather than displaying his genitalia in full view, Pan's manhood is covered by a flimsy drapery (see the comments).

[minty-sweet-art]

Currently focused on the idea of skins for the carnival au.

The themed skin ideas I have so far is

Ocean creatures.

Myths/folklore/super natural

With other idea that just skin ideas in general like robots and sleep over.

Edit: I have now completing the ideas for the sea creatures and folklore skins :D

Ragatha- jelly fish and fairy

Gangle-ribbon eel and oni

Jax- sea bunny and Jackalopes

Zobble- blue ringed octopus and chimera

Kinger- whale shark (would of matched with queenie as a great white shark)

and death/reapers (match with queenie as Mother Earth/life)

And Pomni as a cleaner wrasse fish and a faun/satyr

Also for kaufmo I had the idea of his sea crew skin being a clown fish.

Currently now have rough sketch ideas for all sea creatures skins ( 16 hours of work so far) I have school work to do so this will take a while but I’m glade to have a little bit of art inspiration so far since COVID.

I got the idea to draw these skin ideas from a time I wanted to draw ragatha umbrella and then it turned into a jelly fish along with another artist who drew bug skin for the character and my Tadc carnival oc room being a dlc room that have a ton of Easter eggs like.

[pistachiozombie]

Some cute Satyr Glades AU stuff (Bofur x Leanna but im close to just making him an oc and calling him Boru) I love the Princess and the pauper sorta vibe

[the-twisted-tales-tavern]

The infamous theatre that steals your soul is famous in the Feywild. But lesser known is the Eternal Orgy, where those who enter get drawn in and never leave, fucking for all time. And unfortunately for Rumi, she fell into this trap as she found herself on the wrong side of the Feywild.

"Ohhh gods~" Rumi moaned, her fit and athletic figure arching and twisting as if to pull herself away from the powerful arms that held her so roughly. Her head tilted back, a wanton moan building in her chest, held only back by her biting at her lip in pure pleasure.

Behind her, she heard a low chuckle, and gasped as she felt a hand grip both her long and sensitive ears roughly. A firm tug, as she found herself staring back at the handsome fey being—the horns on his head suggesting that he was perhaps a satyr of some kind? And the look in his eyes sending a pleasant shiver down her spine.

"There are no gods here, little bunny~" the fey being noted in a taunting tone, his lips almost brushing against hers before snapping and catching her bottom lip. "No one but us~ and those naughty voyeurs watching us from the treeline~"

Rumi groaned, her gaze shifting over to the edge of the trees as he said that, her heart pounding faster in her chest as she saw exactly what he spoke of—tiny faeries, slender elves, all manner of twisted and beautiful fey watching as she was pinned and plowed into by the debaucherous crowd she'd stumbled upon. Their lustful gazes making clear she'd find no aid from any of them.

At that thought, she felt the fey before her—a slender and handsome elf man with long ears and a much longer cock—thrust roughly and deeper into her, and gasped as his hands folded her legs up so she was now in a mating press between the two of them. She felt the throbbing of his cock, the low panting against her skin, and shuddered as she knew exactly what it meant for her.

And as his seed pumped hot and thick into her, and he quickly replaced by another—taller, broader, and more wicked-looking—Rumi knew that she wouldn't be leaving this glade anytime soon.

[eden-regained]

"A wayward fairy tells a story" - Dolores. A Fairytale. (C:tD!AU)

(TW blood, violence and mentions of abuse, also rough first draft)

"Our faerie souls spawn from dreams. Therefore, I've decided that one day I, too, should've spawned out of nothingness, rather than being born by a mother to then have me warped into someone, something pitiful I never wanted to be.

I remember more faintly with every passing day the brightly swirling Balefire on the glade which warmed my friends and I on those chilly early Autumn nights as we frolicked, and it felt unreal, probably because it was unreal. Well, kind of. If a human were to stumble upon our little hideaways they would see nothing more than ordinary places; a long abandoned convenience store, a tiny forgotten chapel or maybe even a particularly boring playground with nothing more than a toddler-sized slide and a seesaw too crusted up with sand to be used.

Us fae, however, see a bazaar, a grand cathedral and a jousting tourney set up in their place, for our true heritage is based in the imagination of all material things and what those dreamers think themselves and their surroundings to be, be it involuntarily or by choice. All the world is of a dual nature; physically tangible reality and that of what we do not touch with our hands, but rather with our brains and hearts. The fae can shape it all, like architects whose materials are not cement or brick but, instead, it's the very energy of the mind and soul, that of true memories and fanciful illusions, raw dreamstuff. Glamour.

As a child I was in tune with my fairy self. Even before my Dream Dance, before I knew what I was, I was a craftsman of true magnitude. A wooden toy sword I forged into a claymore of pure golden sunlight, my shabby violet beach dress I refashioned into a ballgown made entirely of lilies, daisies and roses. Children often seem to effortlessly walk that thin twine strung between this world and that of the Dreaming, whether they possess a spirit born in Arcadia or not, they're like the nature spirits of old, intuitively shaping the world as the world gives them shape.

Once I began to question just who those Nymphs and Satyrs were I danced with every night, the scales fell from my eyes, and finally this ancient being that chose me as its safe haven from the mortal realm awoke. I recall, though only through a wall of mental fog, looking up at the full moon which had turned into a mirror. It reflected me, freshly emerged from my butterfly pupa. I had wings and they carried me so easily up into the skies, it was as if they'd always been there, then again they always were there, just collecting a bit of dust. That morning I woke up crying. Like all those trying too had to grasp what they'd dreamt up that night I lost my friends' true names to the Mists. It was painful and it got worse when he stirred to life next to me. Now I could see his pearlescent horns and long white hair draping around his naked form like clouds trying to cover the shame of a shy faun, except "dad" knew no shame, he truly was the saddest of Satyrs.

Standing excited with an impish smile creeping onto his blushing face when he'd kissed away my tears I wanted to give in and not struggle against the always a given pain, but then I'd distantly heard my friends' voices yelling words I simply couldn't have deciphered in my drowsy state if I tried. Almost as if he were a peacock vying for attention dad had swatted at the side of my face and before I could even begin to question how he could hear that voice, anger seemed to overwhelm his arousal.

And finally I must've snapped, from my nightstand I had snatched that same pair of scissors I'd recently used to cut out a snowflake from a magazine so I could turn it into a piece of, given the circumstances horribly ironic window decor, this time with ill intent. I drove the blades into his throat and for the first time in an eternity I felt Glamour rush from deep within my brain, flowing into my arm and into the scissors which I reforged with the same ease with which I'd done my old toy sword. They'd become a vicious dagger with a jagged, dragon-tooth-like blade covered in his blood, more of which poured in obscene rivers over she bedsheets as his eyes and sputtering mouth pleaded with me. Oh god, that sight and those sounds still drive me up the wall. I did not stop, and how could I, this was the most irresistible dad had even looked to me; gasping for air as he pathetically choked on his own blood and tears, all in agonizing pain while my wings, now astir in full glory, casting a shadow over him, hopefully a reminder of the heaven that was forever out of his reach. The dagger had pierced his flesh some more, his fearful Glamour flooding the room with ethereal swirls of primal emotion, having seeped into me so deeply I regrettably can feel it in my bones still. I was 13 then.

But I'm not free. I never was, for he had been supplying me with his mightmarish Glamour from the very moment he first laid eyes on me. Decades of therapy couldn't clean my fairy soul from its blighted touch and all Chimerae which sprang from my music and poetry would eventually become creatures so twisted they forever drove my dear friends, even my dearest, away from our Freehold. The glade sits abandoned now, save for the Balefire which has shrunk and lost most of its brightness. It still feeds me, yet the rift between my mortal host and my half broken, childlike faerie mien has grown to such cavernous depths I've considered just snuffing that Balefire in hopes of becoming undone, forgetting all of the destruction my diseased imagination has left in its wake over the years. I want to smother it all in Banality, I want that tempting little succubus who spreads loving unkindness all while calling itself Dolores nowhere near me, she shames me and makes me turn widdershins in a cycle I cannot break out of no matter how viciously I fight and struggle, I will always end up back at the bazaar, the cathedral, the jousting tourney and that depressing glade, wishing I didn't have to look down at my own body and see her.

But I can't. I'm a Changeling, a misbegotten child of the Dreaming, and no matter how far my retreat I can never undo my past blemishes and all that makes me cringe in embarassment and fear, I have left my mark of Glamour on those people and places I've touched and I fear that, one day, only cold iron to my own throat can save someone else's life, likewise condemning me to a warm hell and that same nothingness of which I so desperately wish it had birthed me uncorrupted."

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Actually obsessed with your Satyr!König :((( He needs a pretty nymph that just freezes when she sees him, ‘cause! Look at him!! He’s tall, handsome, got a good layer of fat on his muscles AND a big dick with breeder balls!! Her friends and sisters all scatter but she doesn’t because he’s a catch!! And he wants to mate?!! Count her in! Reader ends up happy while the other nymphs watch with jealousy as she gets dicked down to her heart’s content 😌

CW: 18+ cockwarming, breeding kink, pure filth, horny, selfish König

Sorry but Satyr!König is just awful, thinking he's entitled to a pretty, soft nymph like you :( This big hairy beast thinks it's only natural that a nasty faun wants to grope a poor, sensitive, shy little nymph, only thinks satyrs and nymphs are a perfect match! It's disgusting!

You don't know what came over you, walking over to him and dismissing the other nymphs' shocked, hissed warnings. You were just mesmerized by that thing between his legs, wanting to try if it would fit inside you, but you almost faint when the gross faun stops what he's doing and shoots all his attention towards you. The cock pulses in his hand just from the sight of you, and you feel like collapsing as you weakly go and straddle this beast. Legs spread on both sides of a hairy stomach, the monstrous cock is jumping, eager to get inside you.

Satyr!König has no trouble with taking you right here in this glade while the other nymphs watch and whisper in horror and in awe. All your friends you just frolicked with are staring in shock as this beast bullies his cock into you, inch by throbbing inch. You're helpless and sobbing by the time he groans, long and hard, and bottoms out…

Gives you no mercy as he starts to pound into you, tries to paw and squish your tits with large clawed hands, has a vile smile across his face when he finally gets to fuck a cute, silly nymph. Solely thinks with his dick as he ruts you with a frenzy, almost bucking you off of his hips.

You have to take support from the sweaty, hairy chest as he uses you like you're just a warm, wet hole for him to finally spurt his seed into: and of course you're a much better option than the cold, wet ground! He's not holding back now that he finally got a sweet nymph to sit on his cock...!

He's possessed, growling and grunting like an animal in heat as he stares at your bouncing breasts, right there in front of his face as you try to desperately hold on with both hands, unable to cover your soft, jiggling tits from a hungry lustful gaze. Groans when you try to caress the fat horns on his head, whining he's about to cum, and you get so angry at him, you only just got started! :(

He goes still without warning, balls pressed fat against your bum, thick shaft shooting rude spurts inside you as he roars and shudders beneath you. There's nowhere to escape, he keeps you in place with two strong hands, making sure you won't try to wriggle away. You should've known that he's horrible; he's a satyr after all, and satyr men are blessed with long orgasms and thick, ample seed. You will be in so much trouble now, this one is such a big specimen, too...

When you complain that he was too rough and only thought of himself, he laughs darkly and promises to give you a wash and lap you with his tongue. He will make you scream, nice and pretty for him! Pats your butt like you're just a dumb little creature for him to use as he pleases.

Satyrs can't be trusted at all, he won't even let you off of his cock, clearly just wants to warm himself inside a cute, grumpy nymph :(

Tries the place where you are joined with his fingers, and rumbles with content when he feels how snug you are around him, the seed safe where it belongs and not leaking out if he keeps his cock stuffed inside you like this :((

[raven-nerd4life]

- The Garden of the Nymphs -

All around through the apple boughs in blossom

Murmur cool the breezes of early summer

And from leaves that quiver above me gently

Slumber is shaken;

Glades of poppies swoon in the drowsy languor,

Dreaming roses bend, and the oleanders

Bask and nod to drone of bees in the silent

Fervor of noontide;

Myrtle coverts hedging the open vista,

Dear to nightly frolic of Nymph and Satyr,

Yield a mossy bed for the brown and weary

Limbs of the shepherd.

Echo ever wafts through the drooping frondage,

Ceaseless silver murmur of water falling

In the grotto cool of the Nymphs, the sacred

Haunt of Immortals;

Down the sides of rocks that are gray and lichened

Trickle tiny rills, whose expectant tinkle

Drips with gurgle hushed in the clear glimmering

Depths of the basin.

Fair on royal couches of leaves recumbent,

Interspersed with languor of waxen lilies,

Lotus flowers empurple the pool whose edge is

Cushioned with mosses;

Here recline the Nymphs at the hour of twilight,

Back in shadows dim of the cave, their golden

Sea-green eyes half lidded, up to their supple

Waists in the water.

Sheltered once by ferns I espied them binding

Tresses long, the tint of lilac and orange;

Just beyond the shimmer of light their bodies

Roseate glistened;

Deftly, then, they girdled their loins with garlands,

Linked with leaves luxuriant limb and shoulder;

On their breasts they bruised the red blood of roses

Fresh from the garden.

She of orange hair was the Nymph Euxanthis

And the lilac-tressed were Iphis and Io;

How they laughed, relating at length their ease in

Evading the Satyr.

- Sappho (630-570 BCE)

Apologies for the wait, my time had been much longer occupied than I anticipated. As compensation, I share with you a longer text from a in modern days very famous, ancient greek poet to enjoy.

Yours truly,

The wallflower poet

Beautiful, long but elegant

Thank you flower, it's fine I didn't mind the wait. It's always worth it, to see you.