And now the thought her soul distressed—
What should she do?—where should she leave him?
Love maddens to be thus half caught,
His struggle Lilla’s pain increases;
“He’ll fly—he’ll fly away!” she thought,
“Or beat himself and wings to pieces.
“His wings! why them I do not want,
The restless things make all this pother!”
Love tries to fly, but finds he can’t,
And nestles near her like a brother.