Thou pretty bird, how do I see
Thy silly state and mine agree!
For thou a prisoner art;
So is my heart.
Thou sing'st to her, and so do I address
My music to her ear that's merciless;
But herein doth the difference lie,--
That thou art graced; so am not I;
Thou singing livest, and I must singing die.
John Danyel.