There be none of Beauty’s daughters<?xml:namespace prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" /> With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters Is thy sweet voice to me: When, as if it sound were causing The charmed ocean’s pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lulled winds seem dreaming. And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o’er the deep; Whose breast is gently heaving, As an infant’s asleep: So the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer’s ocean. March 18, 1816 |
|部落|Archiver|英文巴士
( 渝ICP备10012431号-2 )
GMT+8, 2016-10-5 11:52 , Processed in 0.064923 second(s), 9 queries , Gzip On, Redis On.