But thrives in the woods of Mahiki.
Smitten art thou with the blows of love;
Luscious the water-drip in the wilds;
Wearied and bruised is the flower of Koaie;
Stung by the frost the herbage of Wai-ka-é:
And this—it is love.
Wai-ká, loves me like a sweetheart.
Dear as my heart Koolau’s yellow eye,
My flower in the tangled wood, Hule-í-a,
A travel-wreath to lay on love’s breast,