| ||||||||||||||||
November
The world is tired, the year is old,The little leaves are glad to die, The wind goes shivering1 with coldAmong the rushes dry. Our love is dying2 like the grass,And we who kissed grow coldly kind, Half glad to see our poor love passLike leaves along the wind. 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>>