Attitude Under an Elm Tree

Seeing that you pass your life playing upon the virginalsIn an upper chamber with only a slit of a window in it,I wonder why I,Roaming the hills on a charger red as maple-leaves,Should find the thought of you attractive.You were veiled at the jousting, you remember,Which enables me to imagine you without let or hindrance from the rigidness of fact;A condition not unproductive of charm if viewed philosophically.Besides, your window gives upon a walled garden,Which I can by no means enter without dismounting from my maple-red charger,And this I will not do,Particularly as the garden belongs indubitably to your ancestors.But I thank you for the spray of myrtle I have wound about my sleeve.As it over-topped the wall,My plucking it was without malice.