Lark, skylark, spilling your rubbed and round
Pebbles of sounds in air's still lake,
Whose widening circles fill the noon; yet none
Is known so small beside the sun:
Be strong your fervent soaring, your skyward air!
Tremble there, a nerve of song!
Float up there where voice and wing are one,
A singing star, a note of light!
Buoyed, embayed in heaven's noon-wide]reaches-
For soon Light's tide will turn - Oh Stay!
Cease not till day streams to the west, then down
That estuary drop down to peace.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem