OH thou token loved of joys now
That I still wear from my neck suspended,
Art thou stronger than our spirit-bond so cherish'd?
Or canst thou prolong love's days untimely ended?
Lily,
I fly from thee!
I still am doom'd to
Thro' countries strange,
Thro' distant vales and woods, link'd on to thee!
Ah,
Lily's heart could surely never
So soon away from me!
As when a bird hath broken from his thrall,
And seeks the forest green,
Proof of imprisonment he bears behind him,
A morsel of the thread once used to bind him;
The free-born bird of old no more is seen,
For he another's prey hath been.
