Out there, as far, as low
Looks grass-swept over!
Under what, wider blow
For dark growths of sky
Old Content's last hold out
With world-changes nigh.
Do you feel as lone-struck
As squirm I, guessing?
'Not while that cluck-in-muck
Of hen yet does split
Whilst a child, it chases
My boards with its wit! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem