I Look into my glass
by Thomas Hardy
I Look into my glass, And view my wasting skin, And say, "Would God it came to pass My heart had shrunk as thin!"
For then, I, undistrest By hearts grown cold to me, Could lonely wait my endless rest With equanimity.
But Time, to make me grieve, Part steals, lets part abide; And shakes this fragile frame at eve With throbbings of noontide.
The Wound
by Thomas Hardy
I climbed to the crest, And, fog-festooned, The sun lay west Like a crimson wound:
Like that wound of mine Of which none knew, For I'd given no sign That it pierced me through.
有机会的话,希望能听到灯光朗读英文原诗。 |