我会把我能告诉你的都告诉你，没什么可说的。我看见一个上了年纪的男人，a坐在门上。“你是谁，老人?”我说。“你是怎么生活的?”他的回答滴落在我的脑海里，就像水通过筛子一样。他说:“我寻找睡在麦田里的蝴蝶，我把它们做成羊肉馅饼，拿到街上去卖。”“我把它们卖给那些在狂风暴雨的海上航行的人，”他说;我就是这样得到面包的——请给我一点。”但我在想一个计划，把胡子染成绿色，而且总是用一把很大的扇子，这样就看不见了。 So having no reply to give To what the old man said, I cried 'Come, tell me how you live!' And thumped him on the head. His accents mild took up the tale: He said 'I go my ways, And when I find a mountain-rill, I set it in a blaze; And thence they make a stuff they call Rowland's Macassar-Oil -- Yet twopence-halfpenny is all They give me for my toil.' But I was thinking of a way To feed oneself on batter, And so go on from day to day ' Getting a little fatter. I shook him well from side to side, Until his face was blue: 'Come, tell me how you live,' I cried, 'And what it is you do!' He said, 'I hunt for haddocks' eyes Among the heather bright, And work them into waistcoat-buttons In the silent night. And these I do not sell for gold Or coin of silvery shine, But for a copper halfpenny, And that will purchase nine. 'I sometimes dig for buttered rolls, Or set limed twigs for crabs: I sometimes search the grassy knolls For wheels of Hansom-cabs. And that's the way' (he gave a wink) 'By which I get my wealth -- And very gladly will I drink Your Honour's noble health.' I heard him then, for I had just Completed my design To keep the Menai bridge from rust By boiling it in wine. I thanked him much for telling me The way he got his wealth, But chiefly for his wish that he Might drink my noble health. And now, if e'er by chance I put My fingers into glue, Or madly squeeze a right-hand foot Into a left-hand shoe, Or if I drop upon my toe A very heavy weight, I weep, for it reminds me so Of that old man I used to know -- Whose look was mild, whose speech was slow Whose hair was whiter than the snow, Whose face was very like a crow, With eyes, like cinders, all aglow, Who seemed distracted with his woe, Who rocked his body to and fro, And muttered mumblingly and low, As if his mouth were full of dough, Who snorted like a buffalo- That summer evening long ago, A-sitting on a gate.