I Saw About Her Spotless Wrist, Of Blackest Silk, A Curious Twist; Which, Circumvolving Gently, There Enthrall'D Her Arm As Prisoner. Dark Was The Jail, But As If Light Had Met T'Engender With The Night; Or So As Darkness Made A Stay To Show At Once Both Night And Day. One Fancy More! But If There Be Such Freedom In Captivity, I Beg Of Love That Ever I May In Like Chains Of Darkness Lie.