In its crowning season, of golden
Warming bands conferred round
Wove it a blossomy circlet, pink
Honoured with the bee's sound.
What freshest recalling can but less
Phantom-foamy paint now.
In minute to minute's touching up
Like Fragonard each bough.*
Less airily spectacular;
Of the Divine Mystery, in spring
Twas breathed on after all!
* french painter (1732-1806)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem