TO
by Shelley
One word is too often profaned
One word is too often profaned
For me to profane it,
One feeling too falsely disdained
One feeling too falsely disdained
For thee to disdain it;
One hope is too like despair
One hope is too like despair
For prudence to smother,
And pity from thee more dear
And pity from thee more dear
Than that from another.
I can give not what men call love:
But wilt thou accept not
The worship the heart lifts above
The worship the heart lifts above
And the Heavens reject not,
The desire of the moth for the star,
The desire of the moth for the star,
Of the night for the morrow
The devotion to something afar
The devotion to something afar
From the sphere of our sorrow?
借了本英国诗选。
慢慢品味。
不错。真的。
《a poem》有一个想法