When the spring mornings grew more long
early I woke from dream that told
of dreaded parting and the cold
of the gray dawns when I should long
to see once more that clear light fall
upon my hands and know that near
the yellow meadows shone with dear
small flowers and hear thy laughter fall
— as now I long only to wake
once in that quiet shine of spring
and dream an hour the hour will bring
thy laughing call that bids me wake
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
when I should long to see once more that clear light fall upon my hands and know that near the yellow meadows shone with dear small flowers and hear thy laughter fall.. very poetic dear poet. tony