the home book of verse-1-第82章
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Soft and warm and full to the brim …
Vetches leaned over it purple； and dim；
With buttercup buds to follow。
I pray you hear my song of a nest；
For it is not long： …
You shall never light in a summer quest
The bushes among …
Shall never light on a prouder sitter；
A fairer nestful； nor ever know
A softer sound than their tender twitter；
That wind…like did come and go。
I had a nestful once of my own；
Ah； happy； happy I！
Right dearly I loved them； but when they were grown
They spread out their wings to fly …
Oh； one after one they flew away
Far up to the heavenly blue；
To the better country； the upper day；
And … I wish I was going too。
I pray you what is the nest to me；
My empty nest？
And what is the shore where I stood to see
My boat sail down to the west？
Can I call that home where I anchor yet；
Though my good man has sailed？
Can I call that home where my nest was set；
Now all its hope hath failed？
Nay； but the port where my sailor went；
And the land where my nestlings be：
There is the home where my thoughts are sent
The only home for me …
Ah me！
Jean Ingelow ＇1820…1897＇
AUSPEX
My heart； I cannot still it；
Nest that had song…birds in it；
And when the last shall go；
The dreary days； to fill it；
Instead of lark or linnet；
Shall whirl dead leaves and snow。
Had they been swallows only；
Without the passion stronger
That skyward longs and sings； …
Woe's me； I shall be lonely
When I can feel no longer
The impatience of their wings！
A moment； sweet delusion；
Like birds the brown leaves hover；
But it will not be long
Before their wild confusion
Fall wavering down to cover
The poet and his song。
James Russell Lowell ＇1819…1891＇
LOOKING BACKWARD
THE RETREAT
Happy those early days； when I
Shined in my Angel…infancy！
Before I understood this place
Appointed for my second race；
Or taught my soul to fancy aught
But a white； celestial thought；
When yet I had not walked above
A mile or two from my first Love；
And looking back； at that short space；
Could see a glimpse of His bright face；
When on some gilded cloud or flower
My gazing soul would dwell an hour；
And in those weaker glories spy
Some shadows of eternity；
Before I taught my tongue to wound
My Conscience with a sinful sound；
Or had the black art to dispense
A several sin to every sense；
But felt through all this fleshly dress
Bright shoots of everlastingness。
O how I long to travel back；
And tread again that ancient track！
That I might once more reach that plain
Where first I left my glorious train；
From whence the enlightened spirit sees
That shady City of Palm…trees。
But ah！ my soul with too much stay
Is drunk； and staggers in the way！
Some men a forward motion love；
But I by backward steps would move；
And； when this dust falls to the urn；
In that state I came； return。
Henry Vaughan ＇1622…1695＇
A SUPERSCRIPTION
Look in my face； my name is Might…have…been；
I am also called No…more； Too…late； Farewell；
Unto thine ear I hold the dead…sea shell
Cast up thy Life's foam…fretted feet between；
Unto thine eyes the glass where that is seen
Which had Life's form and Love's； but by my spell
Is now a shaken shadow intolerable；
Of ultimate things unuttered the frail screen。
Mark me； how still I am！ But should there dart
One moment through thy soul the soft surprise
Of that winged Peace which lulls the breath of sighs； …
Then shalt thou see me smile； and turn apart
Thy visage to mine ambush at thy heart
Sleepless with cold commemorative eyes。
Dante Gabriel Rossetti ＇1828…1882＇
THE CHILD IN THE GARDEN
When to the garden of untroubled thought
I came of late； and saw the open door；
And wished again to enter； and explore
The sweet； wild ways with stainless bloom inwrought；
And bowers of innocence with beauty fraught；
It seemed some purer voice must speak before
I dared to tread that garden loved of yore；
That Eden lost unknown and found unsought。
Then just within the gate I saw a child； …
A stranger…child； yet to my heart most dear； …
Who held his hands to me and softly smiled
With eyes that knew no shade of sin or fear；
〃Come in；〃 he said； 〃and play awhile with me；
I am the little child you used to be。〃
Henry Van Dyke ＇1852…1933＇
CASTLES IN THE AIR
My thoughts by night are often filled
With visions false as fair：
For in the Past alone I build
My castles in the air。
I dwell not now on what may be；
Night shadows o'er the scene；
But still my fancy wanders free
Through that which might have been。
Thomas Love Peacock ＇1785…1866＇
SOMETIMES
Across the fields of yesterday
He sometimes comes to me；
A little lad just back from play …
The lad I used to be。
And yet he smiles so wistfully
Once he has crept within；
I wonder if he hopes to see
The man I might have been。
Thomas S。 Jones； Jr。 ＇1882…1932＇
THE LITTLE GHOSTS
Where are they gone； and do you know
If they come back at fall o' dew；
The little ghosts of long ago；
That long ago were you？
And all the songs that ne'er were sung。
And all the dreams that ne'er came true；
Like little children dying young …
Do they come back to you？
Thomas S。 Jones； Jr。 ＇1882…1932＇
MY OTHER ME
Children； do you ever；
In walks by land or sea；
Meet a little maiden
Long time lost to me？
She is gay and gladsome；
Has a laughing face；
And a heart as sunny；
And her name is Grace。
Naught she knows of sorrow；
Naught of doubt or blight；
Heaven is just above her …
All her thoughts are white。
Long time since I lost her；
That other Me of mine；
She crossed； into Time's shadow
Out of Youth's sunshine。
Now the darkness keeps her；
And； call her as I will；
The years that lie between us
Hide her from me still。
I am dull and pain…worn；
And lonely as can be …
Oh； children； if you meet her；
Send back my other Me！
Grace Denio Litchfield ＇1849…
A SHADOW BOAT
Under my keel another boat
Sails as I sail； floats as I float；
Silent and dim and mystic still；
It steals through that weird nether…world；
Mocking my power； though at my will
The foam before its prow is curled；
Or calm it lies； with canvas furled。
Vainly I peer； and fain would see
What phantom in that boat may be；
Yet half I dread； lest I with ruth
Some ghost of my dead past divine；
Some gracious shape of my lost youth；
Whose deathless eyes once fixed on mine
Would draw me downward through the brine！
Arlo Bates ＇1850…1918＇
A LAD THAT IS GONE
Sing me a song of a lad that is gone；
Say； could that lad be I？
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye。
Mull was astern； Rum on the port；
Eigg on the starboard bow；
Glory of youth glowed in his soul：
Where is that glory now？
Sing me a song of a lad that is gone；
Say； could that lad be I？
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye。
Give me again all that was there；
Give me the sun that shone！
Give me the eyes； give me the soul；
Give me the lad that's gone！
Sing me a song of a lad that is gone；
Say； could that lad be I？
Merry of soul he sailed on a day
Over the sea to Skye。
Billow and breeze； islands and seas；
Mountains of rain and sun；
All that was good； all that was fair；
All that was me is gone。
Robert Louis Stevenson ＇1850…1894＇
CARCASSONNE
〃I'm growing old； I've sixty years；
I've labored all my life in vain。
In all that time of hopes and fears；
I've failed my dearest wish to gain。
I see full well that here below
Bliss unalloyed there is for none；
My prayer would else fulfilment know …
Never have I seen Carcassonne！
〃You
