Archive for the '他心' Category


星期六, 十二月 12th, 2009

A widow bird sate mourning for her love

  Upon a wintry bough;

The frozen wind crept on above,

  The freezing stream below.


There was no leaf upon the forest bare,

  No flower upon the ground,

And little motion in the air

  Except the mill-wheel’s sound.


P. B. Shelley

A Lost Love

星期六, 十二月 12th, 2009

I meet thy pensive, moonlight face;

  Thy thrilling voice I hear;

And former hours and scenes retrace

  Too fleeting, and too dear!


Then sighs and tears flow fast and free,

  Though none is nigh to share;

And life had nought beside for me

  So sweet as this despair.


There are crush’d hearts that will not break;

  And mine, methinks, is one;

Or thus I should not weep and wake,

  And thou to slumber gone.


I little thought it thus could be

  In days more sad and fair-

That earth could have a place for me,

  And thou no longer there.


Yet death cannot our hearts divide,

  Or make thee less my own:

‘Twere sweeter sleeping at thy side

  Than watching here alone.


Yet never, never can we part,

  While Memory holds her reign:

Thine, thine is still this wether’d heart,

  Till we shall meet again.


Henry Francis Lyte

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