For i will be there amongst all of England's green
And bursting forests of dawns first light,
Down within fields where the Robin is seen
And from the Yew and the Willow the Thrush will take flight.
By leafy lanes that wander too
Those shaded walks and Dell,
All earthen turns and Avenues
Where rolling Meadows swell.
To lonely Farms sat in the Sun
With Chequered Pastures found,
The sighing Brook that yonder runs
Where Meadowsweet abound.
And what of Rain in its sullen mood
With its spite to desecrate day,
But will only replenish and parade anew
All that Nature does proudly convey.
Though such times the troubled Wind will roar
Those Trees to shake and hound,
Like hurried Breakers to the Shore;
A deep Sad and Soulful Sound.
For i will be there in Albion's pleasant glade
Where all life's joys were daily sought,
At the end of days when my peace is made
It's here my Spirit will walk.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
So beautiful and free. An excellent write!
Thank you Amelie.