She might have known it in the earlier Spring,-
That all my heart with vague desire was stirred;
And, ere the Summer winds had taken wing,
I told her; but she smiled and said no word.
The Autumn's eager hand his red gold grasped,
And she was silent; till from skies grown drear
Fell soft one fine, first snow-flake, and she clasped
My neck and cried, 'Love, we have lost a year!'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem