She whose hair streams down her back,
Is it my wife? It is indeed!
What has scattered the silver-seeming leaves?
Is it the blue birch? It is indeed!
She whose hair streams down her neck,
Is it my betrothed? It is indeed!
This is growing a bit too artistic for comfort; and presently in another song direct simile breaks out:—
As the meadow fire in spring,
Warms this heart of mine;
As the bird that comes in spring,