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第7章

a dome of many-coloured glass(多彩玻璃顶)-第7章

小说: a dome of many-coloured glass(多彩玻璃顶) 字数: 每页4000字

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and yet     I tremble with a sudden fear to set New music ringing through 

my fading youth。 



                                  JK。 Huysmans 



     A flickering glimmer through a window…pane; A dim red glare through 

mud   bespattered   glass;   Cleaving   a   path     between   blown   walls   of   sleet 

Across uneven pavements sunk in slime To scatter and then quench itself 

in mist。 And struggling;  slipping; often   rudely hurled Against the  jutting 

angle    of  a  wall;   And   cursed;   and   reeled   against;   and   flung   aside  By 

drunken      brawlers   as   they  shuffled    past;  A   man   was   groping    to  what 

seemed a light。 His eyelids burnt and quivered with the strain Of looking; 

and   against   his   temples   beat   The   all   enshrouding;   suffocating   dark。   He 

stumbled; lurched; and struck against a door That opened; and a howl of 

obscene   mirth   Grated   his   senses;   wallowing   on   the   floor   Lay   men;   and 

dogs and women in the dirt。 He sickened; loathing it; and as he gazed The 



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candle guttered; flared; and then went out。 

     Through travail of ignoble midnight streets He came at last to shelter 

in a porch Where gothic saints and warriors made a shield To cover him; 

and tortured gargoyles spat One long continuous stream of silver rain That 

clattered   down   from   myriad   roofs   and   spires   Into   a   darkness;   loud   with 

rushing sound Of water falling; gurgling as it fell; But always thickly dark。 

Then as he leaned Unconscious where; the great oak door blew back And 

cast    him;   bruised     and   dripping;    in   the  church。     His   eyes   from    long 

sojourning   in   the   night   Were   blinded   now   as   by   some   glorious   sun;   He 

slowly crawled toward the altar steps。 He could not think; for heavy in his 

ears An   organ   boomed   majestic   harmonies;   He   only   knew   that   what   he 

saw   was   light!   He   bowed   himself   before   a   cross   of   flame And   shut   his 

eyes in fear lest it should fade。 



                                    March Evening 



     Blue   through   the   window   burns   the   twilight;      Heavy;   through   trees; 

blows the warm south wind。 Glistening; against the chill; gray sky light; 

Wet; black branches are barred and entwined。 

     Sodden   and   spongy;   the   scarce…green   grass   plot         Dents   into    pools 

where a foot has been。 Puddles lie spilt in the road a mass; not                  Of water; 

but steel; with its cold; hard sheen。 

     Faint   fades   the   fire   on   the   hearth;   its   embers Scattering   wide   at   a 

stronger      gust。   Above;     the   old   weathercock       groans;     but   remembers 

Creaking; to turn; in its centuried rust。 

     Dying;     forlorn;   in  dreary    sorrow;     Wrapping       the   mists   round    her 

withering form; Day sinks down; and in darkness to…morrow                       Travails to 

birth in the womb of the storm。 



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                                     Sonnets 



                                        Leisure 



    Leisure; thou goddess of a bygone age;             When hours were long and 

days sufficed to hold       Wide…eyed delights and pleasures uncontrolled By 

shortening   moments;   when   no   gaunt   presage   Of   undone   duties;   modern 

heritage;    Haunted our happy minds; must thou withhold               Thy presence 

from this over…busy world; And bearing silence with thee disengage                Our 

twined    fortunes?    Deeps     of  unhewn     woods    Alone     can  cherish   thee; 

alone   possess Thy  quiet;   teeming   vigor。     This   our   crime:   Not   to   have 

worshipped; marred by alien moods            That sole condition of all loveliness; 

The dreaming lapse of slow; unmeasured time。 



     On Carpaccio's Picture:                   The Dream of St。 Ursula 



     Swept;     clean;  and    still;  across  the  polished    floor    From     some 

unshuttered     casement;    hid  from    sight;  The    level  sunshine    slants;  its 

greater   light  Quenching   the     little   lamp  which   pallid;  poor;  Flickering; 

unreplenished;  at   the   door   Has striven   against   darkness   the  long   night。 

Dawn fills the room; and penetrating; bright; The silent sunbeams through 

the window pour。       And she lies sleeping; ignorant of Fate;         Enmeshed in 

listless dreams; her soul not yet Ripened to bear the purport of this day。 

The morning breeze scarce stirs the coverlet;           A shadow falls across the 

sunlight; wait! A lark is singing as he flies away。 



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                                     The Matrix 



     Goaded and harassed in the factory          That tears our life up into bits of 

days     Ticked off upon a clock which never stays; Shredding our portion 

of Eternity; We break away at last; and steal the key          Which hides a world 

empty of hours; ways         Of space unroll; and Heaven overlays The leafy; 

sun…lit   earth   of   Fantasy。    Beyond      the   ilex  shadow     glares   the  sun; 

Scorching against the blue flame of the sky。 Brown lily…pads lie heavy and 

supine     Within a granite basin; under one         The bronze…gold glimmer of a 

carp; and I Reach out my hand and pluck a nectarine。 



                        Monadnock in Early Spring 



     Cloud…topped      and   splendid;   dominating     all  The     little  lesser  hills 

which   compass   thee;      Thou   standest;   bright   with April's   buoyancy;  Yet 

holding Winter in some shaded wall Of stern; steep rock; and startled by 

the call    Of Spring; thy trees flush with expectancy           And cast a cloud of 

crimson;   silently; Above   thy   snowy   crevices   where   fall    Pale   shrivelled 

oak    leaves;   while   the  snow    beneath    Melts     at  their  phantom     touch。 

Another year Is quick with import。          Such each year has been。        Unmoved 

thou watchest all; and all bequeath         Some jewel to thy diadem of power; 

Thou pledge of greater majesty unseen。 



                                The Little Garden 



    A  little   garden   on   a   bleak   hillside Where   deep   the   heavy;   dazzling 

mountain snow        Lies far into the spring。     The sun's pale glow Is scarcely 

able   to   melt   patches   wide About   the  single   rose   bush。 All   denied    Of 

nature's   tender   ministries。    But   no;    For    wonder…working       faith  has 

made it blow With flowers many hued and starry…eyed。                 Here sleeps the 



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sun   long;   idle   summer   hours;   Here   butterflies   and   bees   fare   far   to   rove 

Amid   the   crumpled   leaves   of   poppy   flowers;   Here   four   o'clocks;   to   the 

passionate      night   above     Fling    whiffs    of  perfume;     like   pale   incense 

showers。 A little garden; loved with a great love! 



                               To an Early Daffodil 



     Thou     yellow    trumpeter     of  laggard    Spring!     Thou     herald    of  rich 

Summer's myriad flowers!            The climbing sun with new recovered powers 

Does warm thee into being; through the ring Of rich; brown earth he woos 

thee; makes thee fling         Thy green shoots up; inheriting the dowers                Of 

bending sky and sudden; sweeping showers; Till ripe and blossoming thou 

art   a  thing 

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