Of changeful wondrous dreams.
To the wild waves I’d lend an ear,
And glancing upward, full of cheer,
Would scan the open sky;
And strong and free I’d rush amain,
A whirlwind sweeping o’er the plain,
Crashing through woods I’d fly.
But there’s the rub! You lose your sense—
Are dreaded like a pestilence,
And clapped in prison drear.