| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in Nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid1 boon2! This Sea that bares her bosom3 to the moon; The winds that will be howling at all hours, And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for everything, we are out of tune4, It moves us not.——Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed5 outworn; So might I, standing6 on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. 点击收听单词发音
|
||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
TAG标签:
- 发表评论
-
- 最新评论 进入详细评论页>>