Page:The Poetical Works of William Motherwell, 1849.djvu/176



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;