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第73节

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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 see the city from the hill;

It lies beyond the mountains blue;

And yet to reach it one must still

Five long and weary leagues pursue;

And; to return; as many more。

Had but the vintage plenteous grown …

But; ah! the grape withheld its store。

I shall not look on Carcassonne!



〃They tell me every day is there

Not more or less than Sunday gay;

In shining robes and garments fair

The people walk upon their way。

One gazes there on castle walls

As grand as those of Babylon;

A bishop and two generals!

What joy to dwell in Carcassonne!



〃The vicar's right: he says that we

Are ever wayward; weak; and blind;

He tells us in his homily

Ambition ruins all mankind;

Yet could I there two days have spent;

While still the autumn sweetly shone;

Ah; me! I might have died content

When I had looked on Carcassonne。



〃Thy pardon; Father; I beseech;

In this my prayer if I offend;

One something sees beyond his reach

From childhood to his journey'

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