I warm to Love, as a
Forecast of Day.
Habitual as morning,
I hark to it
In tree-song re-born in
Life's woke spirit.
Set on feelings, as rays
Shadowing forth.
Frequent as Time's first blush
I catch them pass
In prints of sun-made hush
On dew-wiped grass.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem