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If you, that have grown old, were the first dead,
Neither catalpa tree nor scented1 lime Should hear my living feet, nor would I tread Where we wrought2 that shall break the teeth of Time. Let the new faces play what tricks they will In the old rooms; night can outbalance day, Our shadows rove the garden gravel3 still, The living seem more shadowy than they. 点击收听单词发音
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