In my little wit the forces desire a reading
Of a London time, and another city to find.
Dispose those rates we steal and disgrace,
Let go of London nowadays and ride.
These roads to other towns master some of us,
As roads of the philosophical avenues
Carry on rapidly, too later than notes.
Wonder must perform, with cities of grace,
Let their lady keep a sacred reason for living,
As character is the town of delight,
Or do we suppose a readiness to act?
In my larger intelligence, is a command from above,
The solving of thoughts is my profession,
As cities and towns deprive us with grace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem