My Soul Would One Day Go And Seek For Roses, And In Julia'S Cheek A 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 Hair Caught My Poor Soul, As In A Snare; Which Ever Since Has Been In Thrall; Yet Freedom She Enjoys Withal.