Three Golden Threads

Like yonder swallow, I would soar away⁠—
  Above the sea, far from this buzzing mart;
But how can I? A cruel, little fay
  Has fettered with three golden threads my heart.

Her honeyed tongue the one; her eyes the other;
  The third her lips; and that completes her art.
No fruits from other gardens can I gather,
  For she has tied with golden threads my heart.

O, how I would asunder rend my chain,
  And from the tears and pangs of love depart;
Ah, no! ’tis better that I die in pain
  Than break the golden threads of my poor heart.