In my garden three ways meet,
Thrice the spot is blessed;
Hermit thrush comes there to build
Carrier doves to rest.
The broad armed oaks, the copse's maize
The cold sea-wind detain;
And sultry summer overstays
When autumn chills the plain.
From mountains far and valleys near,
The harvests sown today,
Thrive in all weathers without fear, -
Wild planters plant away!
In cities high the careful crowd
Of woe-worn mortals darkling go,
But in these sunny solitudes
My quiet roses blow.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good poem roger, , please check my poems out