1. A sprig enchanted in a vase with dew
Of languid eyelids and bashful glance obscure

2. Whose singing fills with joy attentive ears
And hearts with gentle, chosen bliss galore

3. Thus caught in passion’s snare made garmented
A jewel to brothers, planter’s treasure pure

4. Unknowing what awaited her, though had she known,
She would have fled his searing, raging lure

5. While vines and leaves and blossoms her surround
Distracting her with many a conquest sure

6. If but the sprig were just it would esteem
None other, claiming beauty seen and heard