怀着缅怀的心，让我站在这位君主和这片土地上的吟游诗人的身旁，现在黛安那么可爱地倚在她的车上。似远似近，似幻似近，在你辉煌的峰顶摇摆着一颗纠结的晚星。从颤抖的绿色高塔上，有一片树叶的悬崖，在壮丽的曲线上起伏。你那激昂的声音高亢地滚滚向前，暴风雨的抵挡者，冷酷而有力，当风号令你迸发出歌声。我仍然要最爱你温柔的音乐，它完全没有挑战或自夸，和太阳崇拜的光线做玩伴。我渴望她的叹息，当她在梦中燃烧。我曾多次跪在你枝叶繁茂的祭坛前，寻找你的秘密，把你的教训拼出来。黑夜的运动员还没有做完，他们满天的辛劳和欢乐的光辉还没有跑去融化那喜爱夕阳的古老银匠。当春天在我心中重新萌芽，你对树叶的祈祷飞向了蓝天。在你的枝桠间，无数孩子的声音在响起:他们的嘴唇和手指在颤动时都是苍白的，他们许诺给你足够的叶子来引诱你心爱的鸟儿。这个奇迹很快就使我眼前一亮:那个光秃秃的求饶者站在那里，一个骑士格林在掌舵，与梅缠吻! Far on the hill the wheatstalks stopped from play To call across the valley love to leaves more fine than they. Then wert thou vocal, hospitable king! Safe in thy heart the birds were glad to sing, For dove and stormcock to thy breast had come; And at the perfect hour a moony foam And starlight fell upon the thrush that made thy bosom home. As gentle gatherer of the weary wing, Happy to quaff from the eternal spring That damps the woodwren's feather-swollen breast, Thou lendest to my heart a deeper rest, Working with priceless balm a miracle for thy guest. On thee, in green and sunshine greatly stoled, Thy kindred of the undulating wold Obeisance, as befits their stature, spend: Sweet is the embassy, with wind for friend, When lofty limes of Todenham Church their fragrant homage send. Rightly they worship. Rightly comes the maid To look for love beneath thy bounteous shade; Rightly as these the village children haste, And with their sunburned fingers interlaced Fasten a living girdle round thy cool and stalwart waist. For games and grief thou hast an equal heart, Giving to all petitioners the needed part. Often I ask the shape of him who fled To drink of knowledge at the fountain-head: He pulses in the shadow as a fugitive from the dead. Old noble of the county, once we twain Beneath thy roof discoursed of bliss and pain; And, looking upward for the star Content, Laughed deep at soul to watch the sunbeams sent In coveys glittering all along the field of firmament. If ever the travelled spirit can return Where once in earthly bliss 'twas proud to burn In hard-won triumph over resolute clay, 'Tis here my friend shall fold his wings and stay To fill my unforgetting heart with tremulous holiday. The tryst is here. Brother, I shall not fail Whether in Summer's ripeness, Winter's hail. Come most in Autumn's sympathetic charms, When opal hazes touch the red-roofed farms, And in the night the beech-tree holds the red moon in his arms. And tell me, Brother, if the shining plan Of resurrection chooses only man; If every friend of plain and upland dies. For I would have this turreted tree arise To lord it over beeches in the forest of Paradise. Fast in the ample chamber of his bole There dwells, perchance, an unintelligible soul Destined to tower in some celestial wold, Where you and I, conversing as of old, May watch the Alps of Heaven become as mountains made of gold. Or bend to watch how cunningly the earth Tangles our kin in webs of tears and mirth, And soils them even as they fly the stain; And, seeing this, may find that Heaven is vain To keep earth-broken hearts from breaking in Heaven again Till shines the hour when Home is truly Home, With all the brave and dear familiars come: Assembled ripely in the lustrous sheaf Of Love, and radiant in divine relief From Joy that used to spoil the earth by whispering to Grief.