Love me and I will give into your hands
The rare, enamelled jewels of my lands
Flowers red and blue
Tender with air and dew

From far green armouries of pools and meres
I'll reach for you my lucent sheaves of spears
The singing falls
Where the lone ousel calls

When, like a passing light upon the sea
Your wood-bird soul shall clap her wings and flee
She shall but nest
More closely in my breast