What first touches him is her evident longing for rest:
“Glad from the crush to rest within,
From the heart-sickness and the din,
Where envy's voice at virtue's pitch
Mocks you because your gown is rich,
And from the pale girl's dumb rebuke,
Whose ill-clad grace and toil-worn look
Proclaim the strength that keeps her weak
And other nights than yours bespeak,
And from the wise, unchildish elf,