The Prince

MY heart it was a cup of gold

That at his lip did long to lie,

But he hath drunk the red wine down,

And tossed the goblet by.

My heart it was a floating bird

That through the world did wander free,

But he hath locked it in a cage,

And lost the silver key.

My heart it was a white, white rose

That bloomed upon a broken bough,

He did but wear it for an hour,

And it is withered now.