Affixing my heart's desolate
Condition to my prayer
I shudder, that re-told, replies
Would illume not assuring skies
But show an earthly care.
Less to dread, to be answered in
Angel's quick succession
Of quick descent, than what from brow
Of kindred life-tracing should now
Fall worryingly on.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem