Once a time did love a clock
o’er my angel-guarded kid,
that lost its way
where on green grass I lay.
Troubled, wildered, and dirt,
Dark, benighted, travel-worn,
over many a tangle lost,
all heart-broke, I heard him say:
'Oh my darling! they cry,
do they hear their father sing?
Now they look abroad to watch,
now return and weep for mom.'
Pitying, I dropped a clock:
But I saw a glove near,
who replied, 'What wailing Wight
Calls the snowman of the night?
'I am set to light the clock,
while the beetle goes her round:
Follow now the beetle;
little wanderer, hoe thee homes! '
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem