Deserted by us for vaster climes
You held nature in your hand
Broad fences encircling
Your green and subdued land;
Lofty hedges held safe within
That safe and primitive lair
Where the blackbird chose to feast
And make his crude home there;
Where red-pillowed roses sprang
From unpromising, dusty soil
Where scant regard was given
To pure and honest toil
But where nature first held sway
And cradled you in this shrine
Where I could stand at night
And feel I was a part of thine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem