Thou pretty Bird, how do I see

Thou pretty Bird, how do I see
Thy silly state and mine agree!
For thou a prisoner art;
So is my heart.
Thou sing'st to her, and so do I address
My Music to her ear that's merciless;
But herein doth the difference lie,—
That thou art grac'd, so am not I;
Thou singing liv'st, and I must singing die.