Fantasy

I hear the fluttering wind, I see The shadows on the grass. I wish that you would come to me! I would not let you pass! But springing up from where I lie, I take you in my arms, would I! I’d tell you where white heather grows, I’d kiss you, and I’d hold you close, I would not let you pass!

Here, by my side, you’d watch with me Cloud shadows on the grass. If chance that you should come may be, I will not let you pass! Where the lost faerie kingdoms lie, I’ll tell in wonder-tales--will I! And as the brilliant fancy grows, I’ll kiss you, and I’ll hold you close, I will not let you pass!