Bends in some tree its useless dart,
And where the world no certain shot
Can make, or me it toucheth not.
“Bind me, ye woodbines, in your twines,
Curl me about, ye gadding vines,
And, oh, so close your circles lace
That I may never leave this place!
But, lest your fetters prove too weak
Ere I your silken bondage break,
Do you, O brambles, chain me too,