'But tell me, child, your choice; what shall I buy You?'-'Father, what you buy me I like best.' With the sweetest air that said, still plied and pressed, He swung to his first poised purport of reply.
What the heart is! which, like carriers let fly- Doff darkness, homing nature knows the rest- To its own fine function, wild and self-instressed, Falls light as ten years long taught how to and why.
Mannerly-hearted! more than handsome face- Beauty's bearing or muse of mounting vein, All, in this case, bathed in high hallowing grace...
Of heaven what boon to buy you, boy, or gain Not granted?-Only... O on that path you pace Run all your race, O brace sterner that strain!
Volunteers needed to translate poetry into different languages. Please help us correct the translation of these poems. We currently have 79,663 translations and are trying to create the largest and most accurate database of world poetry translations. We have started with machine translations which are very inaccurate. Please translate your favorite poem on this site. You will be given credit for your translation and a link to your site if desired. COPYRIGHT NOTICE: These poems have been gathered and submitted by many of people, and from many sources. Most have no copyright. However, some may may have copyrights. We have tried to collect poems that appear on many external sites where the author seems to want to disseminate. If you are an author and do not want your poetry translated into other languages then send a removal request and it will be promptly removed.