Here were clasped, with this posy
Of mixed perfumery
A hoard of fondnesses, fairest.
Tight bound, for what securest
Heart-held vowed a Lady.
What blows for autumn, trails wide
What had been tossed aside
For summer-love; its badge; long since.
Knowing were flung up too, I wince
Curses; out a broke pride.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem