the home book of verse-1-第65章
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Just there to die； and Florence scrolls her name
In every blossom Primavera flings。
Now； when the scented iris； straight and tall；
Shall hedge the garden gravel once again
With pale blue flags； at May's exulting call；
And when the amber roses； wet with rain；
Shall tapestry the old gray villa wall；
We； left alone； shall seek one bud in vain。
IV
Oh； rosy as the lining of a shell
Were the wee hands that now are white as snows；
And like pink coral； with their elfin toes；
The feet that on life's brambles never fell。
And with its tiny smile； adorable
The mouth that never knew life's bitter sloes；
And like the incurved petal of a rose
The little ear； now deaf in Death's strong spell。
Now； while the seasons in their order roll；
And sun and rain pour down from God's great dome；
And deathless stars shine nightly overhead；
Near other children； with her little doll；
She waits the wizard that will never come
To wake the sleep…struck playground of the dead。
VI
Oh； bless the law that veils the Future's face；
For who could smile into a baby's eyes；
Or bear the beauty of the evening skies；
If he could see what cometh on apace？
The ticking of the death…watch would replace
The baby's prattle； for the over…wise；
The breeze's murmur would become the cries
Of stormy petrels where the breakers race。
We live as moves the walker in his sleep；
Who walks because he sees not the abyss
His feet are skirting as he goes his way：
If we could see the morrow from the steep
Of our security； the soul would miss
Its footing； and fall headlong from to…day。
VIII
One day； I mind me； now that she is dead；
When nothing warned us of the dark decree；
I crooned； to lull her； in a minor key；
Such fancies as first came into my head。
I crooned them low； beside her little bed；
And the refrain was somehow 〃Come with me；
And we will wander by the purple sea；〃
I crooned it； and … God help me！ … felt no dread。
O Purple Sea； beyond the stress of storms；
Where never ripple breaks upon the shore
Of Death's pale Isles of Twilight as they dream；
Give back； give back； O Sea of Nevermore；
The frailest of the unsubstantial forms
That leave the shores that are for those that seem！
XX
What essences from Idumean palm；
What ambergris； what sacerdotal wine；
What Arab myrrh； what spikenard； would be thine；
If I could swathe thy memory in such balm！
Oh； for wrecked gold； from depths for ever calm；
To fashion for thy name a fretted shrine；
Oh； for strange gems； still locked in virgin mine；
To stud the pyx； where thought would bring sweet psalm！
I have but this small rosary of rhyme； …
No rubies but heart's drops； no pearls but tears；
To lay upon the altar of thy name；
O Mimma Bella； … on the shrine that Time
Makes ever holier for the soul； while years
Obliterate the rolls of human fame。
Eugene Lee…Hamilton ＇1845…1907＇
ROSE…MARIE OF THE ANGELS
Little Sister Rose…Marie；
Will thy feet as willing…light
Run through Paradise； I wonder；
As they run the blue skies under；
Willing feet； so airy…light？
Little Sister Rose…Marie；
Will thy voice as bird…note clear
Lift and ripple over Heaven
As its mortal sound is given；
Swift bird…voice； so young and clear？
How God will be glad of thee；
Little Sister Rose…Marie！
Adelaide Crapsey ＇1878…1914＇
MAIDENHOOD
MAIDENHOOD
Maiden！ with the meek； brown eyes；
In whose orbs a shadow lies
Like the dusk in evening skies！
Thou whose locks outshine the sun；
Golden tresses； wreathed in one；
As the braided streamlets run！
Standing； with reluctant feet；
Where the brook and river meet；
Womanhood and childhood fleet！
Gazing； with； a timid glance；
On the brooklet's swift advance；
On the river's broad expanse！
Deep and still； that gliding stream
Beautiful to thee must seem；
As the river of a dream。
Then why pause with indecision；
When bright angels in thy vision
Beckon thee to fields Elysian？
Seest thou shadows sailing by；
As the dove； with startled eye；
Sees the falcon's shadow fly？
Hearest thou voices on the shore；
That our ears perceive no more；
Deafened by the cataract's roar？
Oh； thou child of many prayers！
Life hath quicksands； … Life hath snares！
Care and age come unawares！
Like the swell of some sweet tune；
Morning rises into noon；
May glides onward into June。
Childhood is the bough； where slumbered
Birds and blossoms many…numbered； …
Age； that bough with snows encumbered。
Gather； then； each flower that grows；
When the young heart overflows；
To embalm that tent of snows。
Bear a lily in thy hand；
Gates of brass cannot withstand
One touch of that magic wand。
Bear through sorrow； wrong； and ruth；
In thy heart the dew of youth；
On thy lips the smile of truth。
Oh； that dew； like balm； shall steal
Into wounds that cannot heal；
Even as sleep our eyes doth seal；
And that smile； like sunshine； dart
Into many a sunless heart
For a smile of God thou art。
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow ＇1807…1882＇
TO THE VIRGINS； TO MAKE MUCH OF TIME
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may；
Old Time is still a…flying：
And this same flower that smiles to…day
To…morrow will be dying。
The glorious lamp of heaven； the sun；
The higher he's a…getting；
The sooner will his race be run；
And nearer he's to setting；
That age is best which is the first；
When youth and blood are warmer；
But being spent； the worse； and worst
Times still succeed the former。
Then be not coy； but use your time；
And while ye may； go marry：
For having lost but once your prime；
You may for ever tarry。
Robert Herrick ＇1591…1674＇
TO MISTRESS MARGARET HUSSEY
Merry Margaret
As midsummer flower；
Gentle as falcon；
Or hawk of the tower：
With solace and gladness；
Much mirth and no madness；
All good and no badness；
So joyously；
So maidenly；
So womanly
Her demeaning
In every thing；
Far； far passing
That I can indite；
Or suffice to write
Of merry Margaret
As midsummer flower；
Gentle as falcon；
Or hawk of the tower；
As patient and still
And as full of good will
As fair Isaphill；
Coliander；
Sweet pomander；
Good Cassander；
Steadfast of thought；
Well made； well wrought；
Far may be sought；
Eye that ye can find
So courteous； so kind；
As merry Margaret；
This midsummer flower；
Gentle as falcon；
Or hawk of the tower。
John Skelton ＇1460？…1529＇
ON HER COMING TO LONDON
What's she； so late from Penshurst come；
More gorgeous than the mid…day sun；
That all the world amazes？
Sure 'tis some angel from above；
Or 'tis the Cyprian Queen of Love
Attended by the Graces。
Or is't not Juno； Heaven's great dame；
Or Pallas armed； as on she came
To assist the Greeks in fight；
Or Cynthia； that huntress bold；
Or from old Tithon's bed so cold；
Aurora chasing night？
No； none of those； yet one that shall
Compare； perhaps exceed them all；
For beauty； wit； and birth；
As good as great； as chaste as fair；
A brighter nymph none breathes the air；
Or treads upon the earth。
'Tis Dorothee； a maid high…born；
And lovely as the blushing morn；
Of noble Sidney's race；
Oh！ could you see into her mind；
The beauties there locked…up outshine
The beauties of her face。
Fair Dorothea； sent from heaven
To add more wonders to the seven；
And glad each eye and ear；
Crown of her sex； the Muse's port；
The glory of our English court；
The brightness of our sphere。
To welcome her the Spring breathes forth
Elysian sweets； March strews the earth
With violets and posies；
The sun renews his darting fires；
April puts on her best attires；
And May her crown of roses。
Go； happy maid； increase the store
Of graces born with you； and
