'What so rare as a day in June?'
O poet, hast thou never known
A night in rose-voluptuous June?
High over all a broad, full moon,
Grey broken clouds that sink and swoon
In floods of light,
Which down the sky's vast steepness pour,
Niagara in all save roar -
Sound lost in sight!
Now serenades the midnight moon,
The beetle's drum, the frog's bassoon,
And mingled with these rises shrill
The piccolo of whip-poor-will
Played in the beech just on yon hill,
Now moon-gold crowned;
Then tinkling notes of light guitar,
With voices softened from afar,
Sight lost in sound!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem