A Wish (III)

Oh that I were a fairy sprite, to wander
  In forest paths, o'erarched with oak and beech;
  Where the sun's yellow light, in slanting rays,
  Sleeps on the dewy moss: what time the breath
  Of early morn stirs the white hawthorn boughs,
  And fills the air with showers of snowy blossoms.
  Or lie at sunset 'mid the purple heather,
  Listening the silver music that rings out
  From the pale mountain bells, swayed by the wind.
  Or sit in rocky clefts above the sea,
  While one by one the evening stars shine forth
  Among the gathering clouds, that strew the heavens
  Like floating purple wreaths of mournful nightshade!