Infinity, when all things it beheld
In Nothing, and of Nothing all did build,
Upon what base was fixed the lath wherein
He turned this globe and rigalled it so trim?
Who blew the bellows of His furnace vast?
Or held the mold wherein the world was cast?
Who laid its cornerstone? Or whose command?
Where stand the pillars upon which it stands?
Who laced and filleted the earth so fine,
With rivers like green ribbons smaragdine?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem