How His Soul Came Ensnared
Robert Herrick
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.
![[Poetry X Logo]](http://poetryx.com/images/poetryXLogo.gif)
