 | Voices and visions |  |
[I Fancy, my falcon, from this willing wrist]
Fancy, my falcon, from this willing wristLeap forth, and roam the radiant morning weather!
Float high, till all its ambient amethyst
Has bathed thy bold wings to their downiest feather!
Here, far below thee, in the meadow's mist,
I feel, dear bird, that still we bide together,
Since back to earth, whene'er the mood may list,
I lure thee by a touch upon thy tether!
| Voices and visions | |