Clutched her hair:
Of tendrils, leaves and rough nuts brown
Some comic books provide
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
Morning and evening
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
For, if I fall in battle fought,
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
His heart must be like bended bow,
Clutched her hair:
Of tendrils, leaves and rough nuts brown
Some comic books provide
Laughed in the innocent old way,
Something there is that doesn't love a wall,
Morning and evening
Such heaps of broken glass to sweep away
For, if I fall in battle fought,
Fetched honey, kneaded cakes of wheat,
His heart must be like bended bow,