I saw the tiny sail unfurl,
And faintly fan a slender curl.
A fairy’s boat it seemed to be,
And yet a pirate sailed the sea,
And anchored on a golden wave
That hid no evil deed—no grave.
That thought! Did Heaven foresee the doom?
From off his curl I shook the bloom.
I know not where it chanced to fall,
In garden, park, or castle wall;