Like light through beech-leaves is my lover’s hair

And wind in the trees is not half as fair

As the caress of the breeze in her locks.

Like song of the stream is my lover’s laugh.

Her delight a sound far more pleasant hath

Than the trickle of water amongst rocks.

Tell me hast thou seen my lover today?

My soul longs to know if she passed this way.

Until she returns forlorn lies my heart.

I tell thee, a dangerous flame is love.

Ware!   I charge thee do not awaken love

Until it does so desire to start.