Classic Poem

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;
Where would I ride,
In all the pride
Of Elfin Chivalry,
With each sweet sound
Far floating round,
Of Faerye minstrelsy? —
'Tis o'er her neck of drifted snow,
Her passion-breathing lip,
Her dainty chin and noble brow,
That I would trip.

Were I a glossy plumaged bird,
A small glad voice of song,
Where would my love-lays aye be heard —
Where would I nestle long? —
In Margaret's ear
When none were near,
I'd strain my little throat,
To sing fond lays
In Margaret's praise,
That could not be forgot;
Then on her bosom would I fall,
And from it never part —
Dizzy with joy, and proud to call
My home her heart!