I occasionally have troubling; nagging fears that I may cease to be
Before ambitions are complied; before my pen has gleaned my barren brain,
Before my fountain of words dried; before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich late summer garners, the full ripened large grain;
When I observe the night starred face, such a divine vaults of grace
All are to me a huge cloudy symbols of a high magic and romance,
And I think that there come the time I may never live to trace
Their shadows, their mysteries; with the random occurrences of chance
And when I see and feel, fair Nature; fair creature of any hour,
That I shall never look upon it any more, the happy rain of Spring shower
Never have I relish in the faerie power
Of unreflecting love; of un nourishing love; of love sore
In this maze of the world I stand alone, stand and think
All love lost; love and fame to nothingness do eventually converge and sink
Yet, keep me from this dire brink
Let it not dry my teeming ink
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem