Never, beauty might come to-night
Except all swallows, stars were back
'Twas not much too good new light?
What they have stars ever lack!
Or, night's greasiness moan'd although,
Heaven's ministerial had no woe.
Saying- - or, letting it, the Sun to be
Happy, thou wert intolerant to me
And, I'm again worshipper to felicity
Of transparent life, or abbreviate beauty.
Never, beauty might come to-night
Thine work, as counted, were too short
As thine lamb in thee I once saw bleat
As unartfull as mine ink's blot
And I had not patient to silence
For thou wert not to do penance.
06/04/2015
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem