Rippled outside, and slit open the evening
Like a sword tearing the skin of a badger
Gone upon the arrival of the morning
In peace lingered out of the bedchamber

Out the young maiden walked
An angry light shines on her hand
Bright the green grass thus she trodded
Into the bland scene she blended

Like a piece of wild thunderstorm
She cried and whined and wailed
In all silence and no sounding of a horn
Tore farther afield and waited and waited

Never did her little love appear
All to her doubt and fury and dismay
And smote herself with a shady spear
Whilst the other roses bloomed, lifeless she lay.