“I love very well
The first blossoming
(I love well I ween)
That blooms in the spring;
Its purple and green
Seem meet for some queen,
To bind in her hair's loosening.
“I should love well to match me!
(The light of high heaven
Burns in my eyes!)
And I love well,” she cries,
“The young men to watch me,—
But ah! who can catch me?
For I run with feet fleeter than wind through the skies.”