Nights so vile as avowed do rage
Darkly heartless through
Such as these, blow loud for a storm
Give impetus to
This running thought, un-endurable;
Sent back out; that pants:
'Retreat, little friends of the woods;
Feared so great for; now!
To what, in dry tree log, tree hollow
Your safe-keeping grants'
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem