92
Three Fanciful Supposes.
Were I a breath of viewless wind,
As very spirits be,
Where would I joy at length to find
I was no longer free?
Oh, Margaret's cheek,
Whose blushes speak
Love's purest sympathies,
Would be the site,
Where gleaming bright,
My prison-dome should rise:
I'd live upon that rosy shore,
And fan it with soft sighs,
Nor other paradise explore
Beneath the skies.
Were I a pranksome Elfin knight,
Or eke the Faerye king,
Who, when the moonshine glimmers bright,
Loves to be wandering;
