MILES and miles of quiet houses, every house a harbour,
Each for some unquiet soul a haven and a home,
Pleasant fires for winter nights, for sun the trellised arbour,
Earth the solid underfoot, and heaven for a dome.
Washed by storms of cleansing rain, and sweetened with affliction,
The hidden wells of Love are heard in one low-murmuring voice
That rises from this close-meshed life so like a benediction
That, listening to it, in my heart I almost dare rejoice.
I mostly dislike this poem because, politically, I don't think that the suburbs are really helping our communities grow very much at all. It saddens me when I see everyone rushing about to work to pay for the ability to lock themselves in and become vegetables at night.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Muhammad was here get this done guys