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acrostic poem

herauf von die Wiesen reich mit Mais
gerade jetzt
durch das Ufer durch das Meer
tun Sie die Jungen und Mädchen gehen noch
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
die Sonne ist oben
Nacht war schwarz und drear
warum Sie immer der dort shivering Standplatz tun Sie
er kam mich durch die Hand nehmen
drehen Sie nicht Ihren Kopf
ich gehe meine Weise complacently

 



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