“A FANCY FAIR COMES FLOATING ON MY THOUGHT”
A Fancy fair comes floating on my thought
When on the wildering trammels I am caught
Of pensive studies; as the surrounding scheme
Fades and dissolves, and coming Hours gleam
Visionary the musing realms athwart:
That thou and I, all our keen battles fought,
Serene and hoar, past touch of withering aught,
Shall yet enkindle love, and kiss, and dream
A Fancy fair.
My Dearest, be this so! Let us be wrought
So to a unity as the Hours, full-fraught
With Blight and Bloom, slip by; let us esteem
The other in our loves so high-supreme,
That thus, Dear Heart, this Vision may be not
A Fancy fair.