No hymn is sung to praise
The beauty now undone by time;
Where once the lauds and gracious
Prose were flung out, as will be
These travesties of nature's levity
Then does all beauty fade, thus
Frail her lovely moments pass away
And crumble like the broken vase
The withered rose upon the wilted stem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem