95. How His Soul Came Ensnared
My soul would one day go and seekFor roses, and in Julia’s cheekA richess of those sweets she found,As in another Rosamond;But gathering roses as she was,Not knowing what would come to pass,It chanced a ringlet of her hairCaught my poor soul, as in a snare;Which ever since has been in thrall;—Yet freedom she enjoys withal.