the home book of verse-1-第53节
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Beside a human door!
You yet may spy the fawn at play;
The hare upon the green;
But the sweet face of Lucy Gray
Will never more be seen。
〃To…night will be a stormy night; …
You to the town must go;
And take a lantern; Child; to light
Your mother through the snow。〃
〃That; Father; will I gladly do:
'Tis scarcely afternoon; …
The minster…clock has just struck two;
And yonder is the moon!〃
At this the Father raised his hook;
And snapped a fagot…brand。
He plied his work; … and Lucy took
The lantern in her hand。
Not blither is the mountain roe:
With many a wanton stroke
Her feet disperse the powdery snow;
That rises up like smoke。
The storm came on before its time:
She wandered up and down:
And many a hill did Lucy climb:
But never reached the town。
The wretched parents all that night
Went shouting far and wide;
But there was neither sound nor sight
To serve them for a guide。
At daybreak on the hill they stood
That overlooked the moor;
And thence they saw the bridge of wood;
A furlong from their door。
They wept; … and; turning homeward; cried;
〃In heaven we all shall meet;〃
When in the snow the mother spied
The print of Lucy's feet。
Then downwards from the steep hill's edge
They tracked the footmarks small:
And through the broken hawthorn…hedge;
And by the low stone…wall;
And then an open field they crossed …
The marks were still the same …
They tracked them on; nor ever lost;
And to the bridge they came。
They followed from the snowy bank
Those footmarks; one by one;
Into the middle of the plank;
And further there were none!
… Yet some maintain that to this day
She is a living child;
That you may see sweet Lucy Gray
Upon the lonesome wild。
O'er rough and smooth she trips along;
And never looks behind;
And sings a solitary song
That whistles in the wind。
William Wordsworth '1770…1850'
IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL
Emmie
Our doctor had called in another; I never had seen him before;
But he sent a chill to my heart when I saw him come in at the door;
Fresh from the surgery…schools of France and of other lands …
Harsh red hair; big voice; big chest; big merciless hands!
Wonderful cures he had done; O yes; but they said too of him
He was happier using the knife than in trying to save the limb;
And that I can well believe; for he looked so coarse and so red;
I could think he was one of those who would break their jests on the dead;
And mangle the living dog that had loved him and fawned at his knee …
Drenched with the hellish oorali … that ever such things should be!
Here was a boy … I am sure that some of our children would die
But for the voice of love; and the smile; and the comforting eye …
Here was a boy in the ward; every bone seemed out of its place …
Caught in a mill and crushed … it was all but a hopeless case:
And he handled him gently enough; but his voice and his face were not kind;
And it was but a hopeless case; he had seen it and made up his mind;
And he said to me roughly 〃The lad will need little more of your care。〃
〃All the more need;〃 I told him; 〃to seek the Lord Jesus in prayer;
They are all His children here; and I pray for them all as my own:〃
But he turned to me; 〃Ay; good woman; can prayer set a broken bone?〃
Then he muttered half to himself; but I know that I heard him say;
〃All very well … but the good Lord Jesus has had his day。〃
Had? has it come? It has only dawned。 It will come by and by。
O; how could I serve in the wards if the hope of the world were a lie?
How could I bear with the sights and the loathsome smells of disease
But that He said 〃Ye do it to me; when ye do it to these〃?
So he went。 And we passed to this ward where the younger children are laid:
Here is the cot of our orphan; our darling; our meek little maid;
Empty you see just now! We have lost her who loved her so much …
Patient of pain though as quick as a sensitive plant to the touch;
Hers was the prettiest prattle; it often moved me to tears;
Hers was the gratefullest heart I have found in a child of her years …
Nay you remember our Emmie; you used to send her the flowers;
How she would smile at 'em; play with 'em; talk to 'em hours after hours!
They that can wander at will where the works of the Lord are revealed
Little guess what joy can be got from a cowslip out of the field;
Flowers to these 〃spirits in prison〃 are all they can know of the spring;
They freshen and sweeten the wards like the waft of an angel's wing;
And she lay with a flower in one hand and her thin hands crossed on
her breast …
Wan; but as pretty as heart can desire; and we thought her at rest;
Quietly sleeping … so quiet; our doctor said; 〃Poor little dear;
Nurse; I must do it to…morrow; she'll never live through it; I fear。〃
I walked with our kindly old doctor as far as the head of the stair;
Then I returned to the ward; the child didn't see I was there。
Never since I was nurse; had I been so grieved and so vexed!
Emmie had heard him。 Softly she called from her cot to the next;
〃He says I shall never live through it; O Annie; what shall I do?〃
Annie considered。 〃If I;〃 said the wise little Annie; 〃was you;
I should cry to the dear Lord Jesus to help me; for; Emmie; you see;
It's all in the picture there: 'Little children should come to Me。'〃 …
(Meaning the print that you gave us; I find that it always can please
Our children; the dear Lord Jesus with children about His knees。)
〃Yes; and I will;〃 said Emmie; 〃but then if I call to the Lord;
How should He know that it's me? such a lot of beds in the ward?〃
That was a puzzle for Annie。 Again she considered and said:
〃Emmie; you put out your arms; and you leave 'em outside on the bed …
The Lord has so much to see to! but; Emmie; you tell it Him plain;
It's the little girl with her arms lying out on the counterpane。〃
I had sat three nights by the child … I could not watch her for four …
My brain had begun to reel … I felt I could do it no more。
That was my sleeping…night; but I thought that it never would pass。
There was a thunderclap once; and a clatter of hail on the glass;
And there was a phantom cry that I heard as I tossed about;
The motherless bleat of a lamb in the storm and the darkness without;
My sleep was broken besides with dreams of the dreadful knife
And fears for our delicate Emmie who scarce would escape with her life;
Then in the gray of the morning it seemed she stood by me and smiled;
And the doctor came at his hour; and we went to see the child。
He had brought his ghastly tools: we believed her asleep again …
Her dear; long; lean; little arms lying out on the counterpane; …
Say that His day is done! Ah; why should we care what they say?
The Lord of the children had heard her; and Emmie had passed away。
Alfred Tennyson '1809…1892'
〃IF I WERE DEAD〃
〃If I were dead; you'd sometimes say; Poor Child!〃
The dear lips quivered as they spake;
And the tears brake
From eyes which; not to grieve me; brightly smiled。
Poor Child; poor Child!
I seem to hear your laugh; your talk; your song。
It is not true that Love will do no wrong。
Poor Child!
And did you think; when you so cried and smiled;
How I; in lonely nights; should lie awake;
And of those words your full avengers make?
Poor Child; poor Child!
And now; unless it be
That sweet amends thrice told are come to thee;
O God; have Thou no mercy upon me!
Poor Child!
Coventry Patmore '1823…1896'
THE TOYS
My little Son; who looked from thoughtful eyes
And moved and spoke in quiet grown…up wise;
Having my law the seventh time disobeyed;
I struck him; and dismissed
With hard words and unkissed;
… His Mother; who was patient; being dead。
Then; fearing lest his grief should hinder sleep;
I visited his bed;
But found him slumbering deep;
With darkened eyelids; and their lashes yet
From his late sobbing wet。
And I; with moan;
Kissing away his tears; left others of my own;
For; on a table drawn beside his head;
He had put; within his reach;
A box of counters and a red…veined stone;
A piece of glass abraded by the beach;
And six or seven shells;
A bottle with bluebells;
And two French copper coins; ranged there with careful art;
To comfort his sad heart。
So when that night I prayed
To God; I wept; and said:
Ah; when at last we lie with tranced breath;
Not vexing Thee in death;
And Thou rememberest of what toys
We made our joys;
How weakly understood
Thy great commanded good;
Then; fatherly not less
Than I whom Thou hast moulded from the clay;
Thou'lt leave Thy wrath; and say;
〃I will be sorry for their childishness。〃
Coventry Patmore '1823…1896'
A SONG OF TWILIGHT
Oh; to come home once more; when the dusk is falling;
To see the nursery lighted and the children's table spread;