Sometimes when all the world seems grey and dun
And nothing beautiful, a voice will cry,
'Look out, look out! Angels are drawing nigh!'
Then my slow burdens leave me one by one,
And swiftly does my heart arise and run
Even like a child while loveliness goes by—
And common folk seem children of the sky,
And common things seem shapèd of the sun.
Oh, pitiful! that I who love them, must
So soon perceive their shining garments fade!
And slowly, slowly, from my eyes of trust
Their flaming banners sink into a shade!
While this earth's sunshine seems the golden dust
Slow settling from that radiant cavalcade.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem