Rural scenes all beauteous to his musing mind
He captured for our pleasure and delight
The valley and its yield he saw with a poet's eye
As accurate as a migrant swallow's flight.
The subleties of his vision he conveyed
While experiencing seasonal changes by the Roe
For this poet loved nature in his inmost heart
A non ebbing love - a constant flow.
He loved the woods, the lanes, the streams
He loved the song fair nature sung
The mayfly settling on the Roe
Forever kept his warm heart young.
Alas, young nature- spring by name
Witnessed this gentle poet's demise
And as the vale embraced a cuckoo's call
Brought a gleam to mournful eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem