What were God's alone to plant
As heart's hanging goodness
Are coaxed ripe in phrases, warm;
With a cheek-kissed promptness.
Fate's, ready-made. Whose plucked hour
Time's sweetest, synchronized in
Core of your being's uplift of
Sap-tide: impulse, loving.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem