主页 分类 英文读本 Selected Poems of W. B. Yeats

第34章 The Arrow

I THOUGHT of your beauty, and this arrow, Made out of a wild thought, is in my marrow. Theres no man may look upon her, no man, As when newly grown to be a woman, Tall and noble but with face and bosom Delicate in colour as apple blossom. This beautys kinder, yet for a reason I could weep that the old is out of season.

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