Dwell, awful Silence, on the shady hills
Among the bleating flocks, and purling rills,
When Pan the reed doth to his lips apply,
Inspiring it with sacred harmony.
Hydriads, and Hamadryads at that sound
In a well order’d measure beat the ground.
“One of the advantages of fantasy is that I don’t have to waste a lot of time creating the kinds of logical or causal justifications required by the conventions of realism.”