我现在，哦，朋友，你的周围雪花无声地落在你的周围，你的小房间随着斜窗的负荷而变得暮色苍茫:* * * * *慈祥的小山，为了完成我们的幸运，把我们安置在她膝上的庇护下;我们坐在她的双膝之间，在我们细长的树林和环城的围墙的庇护下;一个废弃的采石场，铺满了蔷薇地，挂满了铁线莲，那是孕育了那座阶梯式房屋的贫瘠的子宫，现在远远望去，它就像一个沐浴者，长到脖子的绿色。一个废弃的采石场，配有一个神圣的座位，供烟斗和冥想见面，适合这样一个阳光明媚的僻静角落。在那晴朗而温暖的早晨，许多书与山峦的美丽景色相竞争，一谷接一谷，一峰接一峰，填满了半山腰的空阔天空，使我的注意力不集中. . . .贺拉斯整个上午都陪着我坐着;蒙田说着闲话，有真有假;还有叽叽喳喳的佩皮斯，还有几只在旁边的，它们适合悠闲的心境，宁静的潮水，宁静而确定的花园生活，远离一切雷鸣般的争吵。有一处幽静的小地方点缀着古老的时光;一种沉郁记忆的优雅笼罩着树林:老栗子闲谈着逝去岁月的故事。在这里，某个流浪的传教士，祝福拉齐尔，也许是佩登，在中山，在雨或雪中建造了他的秘密教堂，他为那些被选中的残余者欢呼。 All night the doors stood open, come who might, The hounded kebbock mat the mud all night. Nor are there wanting later tales; of how Prince Charlie's Highlanders . . . * * * * * I have had talents, too. In life's first hour God crowned with benefits my childish head. Flower after flower, I plucked them; flower by flower Cast them behind me, ruined, withered, dead. Full many a shining godhead disappeared. From the bright rank that once adorned her brow The old child's Olympus * * * * * Gone are the fair old dreams, and one by one, As, one by one, the means to reach them went, As, one by one, the stars in riot and disgrace, I squandered what . . . There shut the door, alas! on many a hope Too many; My face is set to the autumnal slope, Where the loud winds shall . . . There shut the door, alas! on many a hope, And yet some hopes remain that shall decide My rest of years and down the autumnal slope. * * * * * Gone are the quiet twilight dreams that I Loved, as all men have loved them; gone! I have great dreams, and still they stir my soul on high - Dreams of the knight's stout heart and tempered will. Not in Elysian lands they take their way; Not as of yore across the gay champaign, Towards some dream city, towered . . . and my . . . The path winds forth before me, sweet and plain, Not now; but though beneath a stone-grey sky November's russet woodlands toss and wail, Still the white road goes thro' them, still may I, Strong in new purpose, God, may still prevail. * * * * * I and my like, improvident sailors! * * * * * At whose light fall awaking, all my heart Grew populous with gracious, favoured thought, And all night long thereafter, hour by hour, The pageant of dead love before my eyes Went proudly, and old hopes with downcast head Followed like Kings, subdued in Rome's imperial hour, Followed the car; and I . . .