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the home book of verse-1-第47部分

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Was no room for any work in the close clay!

From the sleep wherein she lieth none will wake her;

Crying; 'Get up; little Alice! it is day。'

If you listen by that grave; in sun and shower;

With your ear down; little Alice never cries;

Could we see her face; be sure we should not know her;

For the smile has time for growing in her eyes:

And merry go her moments; lulled and stilled in

The shroud by the kirk…chime。

It is good when it happens;〃 say the children;

〃That we die before our time。〃



Alas; alas; the children! they are seeking

Death in life; as best to have!

They are binding up their hearts away from breaking;

With a cerement from the grave。

Go out; children; from the mine and from the city;

Sing out; children; as the little thrushes do;

Pluck your handfuls of the meadow cowslips pretty;

Laugh aloud; to feel your fingers let them through!

But they answer; 〃Are your cowslips of the meadows

Like our weeds anear the mine?

Leave us quiet in the dark of the coal…shadows;

From your pleasures fair and fine!



〃For oh;〃 say the children; 〃we are weary;

And we cannot run or leap;

If we cared for any meadows; it were merely

To drop down in them and sleep。

Our knees tremble sorely in the stooping;

We fall upon our faces; trying to go;

And; underneath our heavy eyelids drooping;

The reddest flower would look as pale as snow。

For; all day; we drag our burden tiring;

Through the coal…dark; underground;

Or; all day; we drive the wheels of iron

In the factories; round and round。



〃For; all day; the wheels are droning; turning;

Their wind comes in our faces;

Till our hearts turn; our heads; with pulses burning;

And the walls turn in their places:

Turns the sky in the high window blank and reeling;

Turns the long light that drops adown the wall;

Turn the black flies that crawl along the ceiling:

All are turning; all the day; and we with all。

And all day; the iron wheels are droning;

And sometimes we could pray;

'O ye wheels; (breaking out in a mad moaning)

'Stop! be silent for to…day!'〃



Ay; be silent!  Let them hear each other breathing

For a moment; mouth to mouth!

Let them touch each other's hands; in a fresh wreathing

Of their tender human youth!

Let them feel that this cold metallic motion

Is not all the life God fashions or reveals:

Let them prove their living souls against the notion

That they live in you; or under you; O wheels!

Still; all day; the iron wheels go onward;

Grinding life down from its mark;

And the children's souls; which God is calling sunward;

Spin on blindly in the dark。



Now tell the poor young children; O my brothers;

To look up to Him and pray;

So the blessed One; who blesseth all the others;

Will bless them another day。

They answer; 〃Who is God that He should hear us;

While the rushing of the iron wheels is stirred?

When we sob aloud; the human creatures near us

Pass by; hearing not; or answer not a word!

And we hear not (for the wheels in their resounding)

Strangers speaking at the door:

Is it likely God; with angels singing round Him;

Hears our weeping any more?



〃Two words; indeed; of praying we remember;

And at midnight's hour of harm;

'Our Father;' looking upward in the chamber;

We say softly for a charm。

We know no other words except 'Our Father;'

And we think that; in some pause of angels' song;

God may pluck them with the silence sweet to gather;

And hold both within his right hand which is strong。

'Our Father!' If He heard us; He would surely

(For they call Him good and mild)

Answer; smiling down the steep world very purely;

'Come and rest with me; my child。'



〃But no!〃 say the children; weeping faster;

〃He is speechless as a stone;

And they tell us; of His image is the master

Who commands us to work on。

Go to!〃 say the children; … 〃Up in Heaven;

Dark; wheel…like; turning clouds are all we find。

Do not mock us; grief has made us unbelieving:

We look up for God; but tears have made us blind。〃

Do you hear the children weeping and disproving;

O my brothers; what ye preach?

For God's possible is taught by His world's loving;

And the children doubt of each。



And well may the children weep before you!

They are weary ere they run;

They have never seen the sunshine; nor the glory

Which is brighter than the sun。

They know the grief of man; without its wisdom;

They sink in man's despair; without its calm;

Are slaves; without the liberty in Christdom;

Are martyrs; by the pang without the palm:

Are worn as if with age; yet unretrievingly

The harvest of its memories cannot reap; …

Are orphans of the earthly love and heavenly。

Let them weep! let them weep!



They look up; with their pale and sunken faces;

And their look is dread to see;

For they mind you of their angels in high places;

With eyes turned on Deity。

〃How long;〃 they say; 〃how long; O cruel nation;

Will you stand; to move the world; on a child's heart; …

Stifle down with a mailed heel its palpitation;

And tread onward to your throne amid the mart?

Our blood splashes upward; O gold…heaper;

And your purple shows your path;


But the child's sob in the silence curses deeper

Than the strong man in his wrath!〃



Elizabeth Barrett Browning '1806…1861'





THE SHADOW…CHILD



Why do the wheels go whirring round;

Mother; mother?

Oh; mother; are they giants bound;

And will they growl forever?

Yes; fiery giants underground;

Daughter; little daughter;

Forever turn the wheels around;

And rumble…grumble ever。



Why do I pick the threads all day;

Mother; mother?

While sunshine children are at play?

And must I work forever?

Yes; shadow…child; the live…long day;

Daughter; little daughter;

Your hands must pick the threads away;

And feel the sunshine never。



Why do the birds sing in the sun;

Mother; mother?

If all day long I run and run;

Run with the wheels forever?

The birds may sing till day is done;

Daughter; little daughter;

But with the wheels your feet must run …

Run with the wheels forever。



Why do I feel so tired each night;

Mother; mother?

The wheels are always buzzing bright;

Do they grow sleepy never?

Oh; baby thing; so soft and white;

Daughter; little daughter;

The big wheels grind us in their might;

And they will grind forever。



And is the white thread never spun;

Mother; mother?

And is the white cloth never done;

For you and me done never?

Oh; yes; our thread will all be spun;

Daughter; little daughter;

When we lie down out in the sun;

And work no more forever。



And when will come that happy day;

Mother; mother?

Oh; shall we laugh and sing and play

Out in the sun forever?

Nay; shadow…child; we'll rest all day;

Daughter; little daughter;

Where green grass grows and roses gay;

There in the sun forever。



Harriet Monroe '1860…1936'





MOTHER WEPT



Mother wept; and father sighed;

With delight aglow

Cried the lad; 〃To…morrow;〃 cried;

〃To the pit I go。〃



Up and down the place he sped; …

Greeted old and young;

Far and wide the tidings spread;

Clapt his hands and sung。



Came his cronies; some to gaze

Wrapped in wonder; some

Free with counsel; some with praise:

Some with envy dumb。



〃May he;〃 many a gossip cried;

〃Be from peril kept。〃

Father hid his face and sighed;

Mother turned and wept。



Joseph Skipsey '1832…1903'





DUTY



So nigh is grandeur to our dust;

So near is God to man;

When Duty whispers low; 〃Thou must;〃

The youth replies; 〃I can。〃



Ralph Waldo Emerson '1803…1882'





LUCY GRAY

Or Solitude



Oft I had heard of Lucy Gray:

And; when I crossed the wild;

I chanced to see; at break of day;

The solitary child。



No mate; no comrade Lucy knew;

She dwelt on a wide moor;

The sweetest thing that ever grew

Beside a human door!



You yet may spy the fawn at play;

The hare upon the green;

But the sweet face of Lucy Gray

Will never more be seen。



〃To…night will be a stormy night; …

You to the town must go;

And take a lantern; Child; to light

Your mother through the snow。〃



〃That; Father; will I gladly do:

'Tis scarcely afternoon; …

The minster…clock has just struck two;

And yonder is the moon!〃



At this the Father raised his hook;

And snapped a fagot…brand。

He plied his work; … and Lucy took

The lantern in her hand。



Not blither is the mountain roe:

With many a wanton stroke

Her feet disperse the powdery snow;

That rises up like smoke。



The storm came on before its time:

She wandered up and down:

And many a hill did Lucy climb:

But never reached the town。



The wretched parents all that night

Went shouting far and wide;

But there was neither sound nor sight

To serve them for a guide。



At daybreak on the hill they stood

That overlooked the moor;

And thence they saw the bridge of wood;

A furlong from their door。



They wept; … and; turning homeward; cried;

〃In heaven we all shall meet;〃

When in the snow the mother spied

The print of Lucy's feet。



Then downwards from the steep hill's edge

They tracked the footmarks small:

And through the broken hawthorn…hedge;

And by the low stone…wall;



And then an open field they crossed …

The marks were still the same …

They tracked them on; nor ever lost;

And to the bridge they came。



They followed from the snowy bank

Those footmarks; one by one;

Into the middle of the plank;

And further there were none!



… Yet some maintain that to this day

She is a living child;

That you may see sweet Lucy Gray

Upon the lonesome wild。



O'er rough and smooth she trips along;

And never looks behind;

And sings a solitary song

That whistles in the wind。



William Wordsworth '1770…1850'





IN THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL

Emmie



Our doctor had called in another; I ne
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