What never, for a portrait
Of unburdening
Needs be, for its antique look
Dark storage put in!
Swampy backwood's kind; day-hung;
Sunned o'er; peace-sweetened.
For cold log's, tied up rowboat's
Blown pitifulness
But waits out its time's and tide's
Laid back usefulness.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem