You wonder why my feelings
For you, my love, are sung,
And never plainly phrased by
The unaffecting tongue.
It is because my passions
Are restless, rash and strong-
To native sense immodest
Unless expressed in song.
I have made Speech and Song,
I have tried Silence, too,
But all interpret ill the thoughts
My heart would speak to you.
A motion of the hand, perhaps,
Half-wanton, half-withholding,
And such a smile, and such a glance,
Would be love’s unfolding-
Meaning that whiles my sentiments
Have need of more than word,
I dare not by a brazen move
Displease you, Lord.
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I would like to translate this poem