124 THE BUTTERCUP, OR KINGCUP. 
ILLUSTRATION OF THE SENTIMENT. 
O, knew I the spell of gold, 
I would never poison a fresh young heart 
With the taint of customs old. 
I would hind no wreath to my forehead free, 
In whose shadow a thought might die. 
Nor drink from the cup of revelry 
The ruin my gold would buy. 
But I’d break the fetters of care-worn things. 
And be spirit and fancy free; 
My mind should go up where it longs to go. 
And the limitless wind outflee. 
I’d climb to the eyries of eagle view, 
Till the stars become a scroll; 
And pour right on, like the even sea, 
In the strength of a govern’d soul. 
Willis. 
