IV

Thou hast thy calling to some palace-floor,

Most gracious singer of high poems ! where

The dancers will break footing, from the care

Of watching up thy pregnant lips for more.

And dost thou lift this houses latch too poor

For hand of thine ? and canst thou think and bear

To let thy music drop here unaware

In folds of golden fulness at my door ?

Look up and see the casement broken in,

The bats and owlets builders in the roof !

My cricket chirps against thy mandolin.

Hush, call no echo up in further proof

Of desolation ! there s a voice within

Loading...

未加载完，尝试【刷新】or【退出阅读模式】or【关闭广告屏蔽】。

尝试更换【Firefox浏览器】or【Chrome谷歌浏览器】打开多多收藏！

移动流量偶尔打不开，可以切换电信、联通、Wifi。

收藏网址：www.ziyungong.cc

(＞人＜；)