There was such speed in her little body,
And such lightness in her footfall,
It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all
Her wars were bruited in our high window.
We looked among orchard trees and beyond
Where she took arms against her shadow,
Or harried unto the pond
The lazy geese, like a snow cloud
Dripping their snow on the green grass,
Tricking and stopping, sleepy and proud,
Who cried in goose, Alas,
For the tireless heart within the little
Lady with rod that made them rise
From their noon apple-dreams and scuttle
Goose-fashion under the skies!
But now go the bells, and we are ready,
In one house we are sternly stopped
To say we are vexed at her brown study,
Lying so primly propped.
In September of 1965, my freshman English professor wrote this and another poem on the board. I loved it the moment I saw it, and 52 years later it still touches the strand of melancholy we carry in our hearts
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You need to separate lines 3 &4: It is no wonder her brown study Astonishes us all