O for a Booke and a shadie nook.
Eyther in-a doore or out;
With the grene leaves whispering overhede,
Or the Streets crys all about
Where I maie Readse at all my ease,
Both of the Newe and Olde;
For a jollie goode Brook wherreoon to looke,
Is beter to me than Colde.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
.....oh I love this write....and the rhythm and flow makes it fun to read...