FANCY AND FACT.
As musing I lay on my pillow at morn,
I thought what bright visions would fade with the dawn;
So I strove to detain them, but vain was my care,
For soon they all vanished, my castles in air.
I thought what bright visions would fade with the dawn;
So I strove to detain them, but vain was my care,
For soon they all vanished, my castles in air.
Yet fain would we picture them, aid us, ye fays,
Let your inspiration give tone to our lays;
With quill from your pinions, what poet but knows,
How to tinge all his dreamings with couleur de rose?
Let your inspiration give tone to our lays;
With quill from your pinions, what poet but knows,
How to tinge all his dreamings with couleur de rose?
When night first descends upon hill-top and grove,
Then, truant-like Fancy prepares for a rove;
To Reason she says—"With thy pratings be still,
Like the sex, I'm determined to have my own will."
Then, truant-like Fancy prepares for a rove;
To Reason she says—"With thy pratings be still,
Like the sex, I'm determined to have my own will."
