Of Beauty yet another song
Sing I
So many songs
Sung I
Yet of Beauty
I never wear
Never tire
To sing a song.
Look! There goes
The elfin throng
Hand in hand
Among
With the muster of
Ghosts and shrouds
Along:
Look! You must sing!
It be past mid-night
And the night declines
Steal with fast feet
The slippery hours.
Of Beauty yet another song
Sing I
So many songs
Sung I
Yet of Beauty
I never wear
Never tire
To sing a song.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem