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How His Soul Came Ensnared

by Robert Herrick, 1648

My soul would one day go and seek
For roses, and in Julia’s cheek
A richesse of those sweets she found,
As in another Rosamond.
But gathering roses as she was,
Not knowing what would come to pass,
It chanc’d a ringlet of her hair
Caught my poor soul, as in a snare:
Which ever since has been in thrall;
Yet freedom she enjoys withal.

Published in Hesperides

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