Missing

Have I not seen thee for a week,
Why then does it resemble eternity?

Thy dearie eyes as clear as ever,
In my mind entrenched,
Curseth thee and thy fair appearance,
Alas, have I not come across an equal,

Of thy unrivalled soul,
How I wish that I'd be freed
Of thy thievery of all that is me dear,
Yet I know, by you enchanted,

I cannot ever be set free,
Stolen and enthralled.