I wait the vaunted wind to rise,
While gazing on the icy bough.
The night has brought a beauteous sight
Of hanging limbs bedecked in white
Or clear glazed coverings of thickly frozen rime
When sun breaks through
The world is new
Limbs start to rise
From weights imposed by night
And no more break and crack
As some did early in the morn.
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem