She is the one whose purity is mine;
She makes me feel as if I’ve ascended to prime.
Like thunder and lightning, our zeal is divine;
Like Kriss Kringle’s night my passion is sublime.
Her complexion engenders the buds of May;
With her, my motor survives on harmony.
She enriches me, and makes me so, so gay,
And when one’s plaintive, we rain in symphony.
Yet she was a maiden who was quite fickle;
I took little