To Doris
She drew one hair from out the golden strand
And as a prisoner bound my willing hand.
I smiled, poor fool, and thought 'twould easy be
To break my bonds and win my liberty.
But still that hair its captive fast doth bind
And when she draws I follow close behind;
I weep, a victim held in iron chains,
And have no strength to free me from my pains.
And as a prisoner bound my willing hand.
I smiled, poor fool, and thought 'twould easy be
To break my bonds and win my liberty.
But still that hair its captive fast doth bind
And when she draws I follow close behind;
I weep, a victim held in iron chains,
And have no strength to free me from my pains.
- Read more about To Doris
- Log in or register to post comments