This white youth's image, slight and pale,
Would haunt the maiden's leafy bower,
And wake her spirit's wail.
In that high heart that fiercely hates,
Love is as fierce and wild;
And so the love is wild, that waits
To mount its height in this poor child:
This poor, frail child who born beneath
A roof of leaves, is made to dream,
That she may wear a bridal wreath