在你的千座宝座上，我们向你致敬，在你的千座宝座上，我们向你致敬，在你的形体和面容中行走，在森林中行走，呼唤着同一个名字，最重要的是，这是怎么回事，不认识你的人困惑地知道，一个叫"她站在这里"，一个叫"那边"，而你很久以前就在天堂的家里了。从兰开斯特人或南撒克逊人的低矮的掩蔽处，在黑暗的岁月里守望着那曾经属于自己的光芒:我们土地的幽灵，沃尔辛厄姆的白夫人，呼唤你名字的人难道不能活下去吗?如果狂风中吹起一首古老的歌，呼喊着他们来的神圣的祖国?玻璃吹出的玫瑰深深扎在沙特里，在高高的玻璃窗上燃烧，在康沃尔的峭壁上，把剑当作致敬，在孔雀海的远处，把船帆当作致敬，在青铜中忧郁，在彩绘的木头中欢快，当孩子乖时，她给了一个大娃娃，除了她给了那个给娃娃的孩子，所有的娃娃都是母性的梦想。我发现你像个小牧羊女，戴着绿色的丝带;他继续前行，找到了迈克尔，他被称为天使之母，上帝之母，就像一个充满思想的人填满了一座山:融化的银或金，或穿着蓝色的衣服，或穿着红色的衣服，里面的长袍烧焦了，国王的女儿的荣耀:变化，每一种色调都闪耀着不变的光芒。身披太阳，或站在月亮上，戴着星星，或独戴晨星，阳光和月光是你发光的影子，星光和黄昏是你折射的光，光和半光，所有的光都围着你转，虽然我们眼花缭乱，既看不见你，也不怀疑你，但有些东西还在。没有你，人无法生存，没有你，人无法忍受。有一条黑暗的线穿过挂毯，那是时间用时间的各种色调编织出来的，不是邪恶的，而是怪诞和摸索的，是不清晰的;不是最终的;不崇高; Quaint as dim pattern of primal plant or tree Or fish, the legless elfins of the sea, Yet rare as this shine image in ebony Being most strange in its simplicity. Rare as the rushing of the wild black swans The Romans saw; or rocks remote and grim Where through black clouds the black sheep runs accursed And through black clouds the Shepherd follows him. By the black oak of the aeon-buried grove By the black gems of the miner's treasure-trove Monsters and freaks and fallen stars and sunken- Most holy dark, cover our uncouth love. From shine high rock look down on Africa The living darkness of devouring green The loathsome smell of life unquenchable, Look on low brows and blinking eyes between, On the dark heart where white folk find no place, On the dark bodies of an antic race, On all that fear thy light and love thy shadow, Turn thou the mercy of thy midnight face. This also is in thy spectrum; this dark ray; Beyond the deepening purples of thy Lent Darker than violet vestment; dark and secret Clot of old night yet cloud of heaven sent: As the black moon of some divine eclipse, As the black sun of the Apocalypse, As the black flower that blessed Odysseus back From witchcraft; and he saw again the ships. In all thy thousand images we salute thee, Claim and acclaim on all thy thousand thrones Hewn out of multi-colored rocks and risen Stained with the stored-up sunsets in all tones- If in all tones and shades this shade I feel, Come from the black cathedrals of Castille Climbing these flat black stones of Catalonia, To thy most merciful face of night I kneel.