To The Golden Heart That He Wore Around His Neck

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.