What delightful hosts are they --
Life and Love!
Lingeringly I turn away,
This late hour, yet glad enough
They have not withheld from me
Their high hospitality.
So, with face lit with delight
And all gratitude, I stay
Yet to press their hands and say,
"Thanks. -- So fine a time! Good night."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
heya I just discovered that you're dead, then who writes your poetry here? Do you have some eternal hands that can type although you might not have known typing since it wasn't the age of computers when you were alive.