Fancy.
O fancy, if thou flyest, come back anon, Thy fluttering wings are soft as love's first word, And fragrant as the feathers of that bird, Which feeds upon the budded cinnamon. I ask thee not to work, or sigh - play on, From nought that was not, was, or is, deterred; The flax that Old Fate spun thy flights have stirred, And waved memorial grass of Marathon. Play, but be gentle, not as on that day I saw thee running down the rims of doom With stars thou hadst been stealing - while they lay Smothered in light and blue - clasped to thy breast; Bring rather to me in the firelit room A netted halcyon bird to sing of rest.
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"O fancy, if thou flyest, come back anon,..."
Jean Ingelow's contribution to classic is further solidified by the brilliance found in "Fancy."... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...