the home book of verse-1-第58章
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And the colors have all passed away from her eyes!
William Wordsworth '1770…1850'
CHILDREN'S SONG
Sometimes wind and sometimes rain;
Then the sun comes back again;
Sometimes rain and sometimes snow;
Goodness; how we'd like to know
Why the weather alters so。
When the weather's really good
We go nutting in the wood;
When it rains we stay at home;
And then sometimes other some
Of the neighbors' children come。
Sometimes we have jam and meat;
All the things we like to eat;
Sometimes we make do with bread
And potatoes boiled instead。
Once when we were put to bed
We had nowt and mother cried;
But that was after father died。
So; sometimes wind and sometimes rain;
Then the sun comes back again;
Sometimes rain and sometimes snow;
Goodness; how we'd like to know
If things will always alter so。
Ford Madox Ford '1873…
THE MITHERLESS BAIRN
When a' other bairnies are hushed to their hame
By aunty; or cousin; or frecky grand…dame;
Wha stands last and lanely; an' naebody carin'?
'Tis the puir doited loonie; … the mitherless bairn!
The mitherless bairn gangs to his lane bed;
Nane covers his cauld back; or haps his bare head;
His wee hackit heelies are hard as the airn;
An' litheless the lair o' the mitherless bairn。
Aneath his cauld brow siccan dreams hover there;
O' hands that wont kindly to kame his dark hair;
But mornin' brings clutches; a' reckless an' stern;
That lo'e na the locks o' the mitherless bairn!
Yon sister that sang o'er his saftly rocked bed
Now rests in the mools where her mammie is laid;
The father toils sair their wee bannock to earn;
An' kens na the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn。
Her spirit; that passed in yon hour o' his birth;
Still watches his wearisome wanderings on earth;
Recording in heaven the blessings they earn
Wha couthilie deal wi' the mitherless bairn!
O; speak him na harshly; … he trembles the while;
He bends to your bidding; and blesses your smile;
In their dark hour o' anguish the heartless shall learn
That God deals the blow; for the mitherless bairn!
William Thom '1798?…1848'
THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN
Do ye hear the children weeping; O my brothers;
Ere the sorrow comes with years?
They are leaning their young heads against their mothers;
And that cannot stop their tears。
The young lambs are bleating in the meadows;
The young birds are chirping in the nest;
The young fawns are playing with the shadows;
The young flowers are blowing toward the west …
But the young; young children; O my brothers;
They are weeping bitterly!
They are weeping in the playtime of the others;
In the country of the free。
Do you question the young children in the sorrow;
Why their tears are falling so?
The old man may weep for his to…morrow
Which is lost in Long Ago;
The old tree is leafless in the forest;
The old year is ending in the frost;
The old wound; if stricken; is the sorest;
The old hope is hardest to be lost:
But the young; young children; O my brothers;
Do you ask them why they stand
Weeping sore before the bosoms of their mothers;
In our happy Fatherland?
They look up with their pale and sunken faces;
And their looks are sad to see;
For the man's hoary anguish draws and presses
Down the cheeks of infancy;
〃Your old earth;〃 they say; 〃is very dreary;
Our young feet〃 they say; 〃are very weak;
Few paces have we taken; yet are weary …
Our grave…rest is very far to seek:
Ask the aged why they weep; and not the children
For the outside earth is cold;
And we young ones stand without; in our bewildering;
And the graves are for the old。
〃True;〃 say the children; 〃it may happen
That we die before our time:
Little Alice died last year … her grave is shapen
Like a snowball; in the rime。
We looked into the pit prepared to take her:
Was no room for any work in the close clay!
From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her;
Crying; 'Get up; little Alice! it is day。'
If you listen by that grave; in sun and shower;
With your ear down; little Alice never cries;
Could we see her face; be sure we should not know her;
For the smile has time for growing in her eyes:
And merry go her moments; lulled and stilled in
The shroud by the kirk…chime。
It is good when it happens;〃 say the children;
〃That we die before our time。〃
Alas; alas; the children! they are seeking
Death in life; as best to have!
They are binding up their hearts away from breaking;
With a cerement from the grave。
Go out; children; from the mine and from the city;
Sing out; children; as the little thrushes do;
Pluck your handfuls of the meadow cowslips pretty;
Laugh aloud; to feel your fingers let them through!
But they answer; 〃Are your cowslips of the meadows
Like our weeds anear the mine?
Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal…shadows;
From your pleasures fair and fine!
〃For oh;〃 say the children; 〃we are weary;
And we cannot run or leap;
If we cared for any meadows; it were merely
To drop down in them and sleep。
Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping;
We fall upon our faces; trying to go;
And; underneath our heavy eyelids drooping;
The reddest flower would look as pale as snow。
For; all day; we drag our burden tiring;
Through the coal…dark; underground;
Or; all day; we drive the wheels of iron
In the factories; round and round。
〃For; all day; the wheels are droning; turning;
Their wind comes in our faces;
Till our hearts turn; our heads; with pulses burning;
And the walls turn in their places:
Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling;
Turns the long light that drops adown the wall;
Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling:
All are turning; all the day; and we with all。
And all day; the iron wheels are droning;
And sometimes we could pray;
'O ye wheels; (breaking out in a mad moaning)
'Stop! be silent for to…day!'〃
Ay; be silent! Let them hear each other breathing
For a moment; mouth to mouth!
Let them touch each other's hands; in a fresh wreathing
Of their tender human youth!
Let them feel that this cold metallic motion
Is not all the life God fashions or reveals:
Let them prove their living souls against the notion
That they live in you; or under you; O wheels!
Still; all day; the iron wheels go onward;
Grinding life down from its mark;
And the children's souls; which God is calling sunward;
Spin on blindly in the dark。
Now tell the poor young children; O my brothers;
To look up to Him and pray;
So the blessed One; who blesseth all the others;
Will bless them another day。
They answer; 〃Who is God that He should hear us;
While the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred?
When we sob aloud; the human creatures near us
Pass by; hearing not; or answer not a word!
And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding)
Strangers speaking at the door:
Is it likely God; with angels singing round Him;
Hears our weeping any more?
〃Two words; indeed; of praying we remember;
And at midnight's hour of harm;
'Our Father;' looking upward in the chamber;
We say softly for a charm。
We know no other words except 'Our Father;'
And we think that; in some pause of angels' song;
God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather;
And hold both within his right hand which is strong。
'Our Father!' If He heard us; He would surely
(For they call Him good and mild)
Answer; smiling down the steep world very purely;
'Come and rest with me; my child。'
〃But no!〃 say the children; weeping faster;
〃He is speechless as a stone;
And they tell us; of His image is the master
Who commands us to work on。
Go to!〃 say the children; … 〃Up in Heaven;
Dark; wheel…like; turning clouds are all we find。
Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving:
We look up for God; but tears have made us blind。〃
Do you hear the children weeping and disprovin