Windows have I; and one is best.
Smuttiness of the town
Cannot dishearten; whose light
As faith's glassed; forthright.
A sympathetic warming at
Noon-tide's jaded height.
Tis goldener, with soul's reward
Of aspectings passed through.
Shadowless as for despair's;
While to frame true love's stares.
Which have, as their middlemost
Angel-overhung stairs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem