Objectionable may be the weed
But a good-for-nothing, no.
Through them, a more detectable
Of acquaintance, primrose low
Comes, and for all it discloses
Comes up 'smelling like roses'!
Brushed placid again which minds, now
More appreciative, bad mouthed it.
As with a new conclusiveness
Unfurled, not where God's spirit
By itself blooms, as chokes the way
Devout knee-dropped for all day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem