Sonnet 01 - 05

类别:文学名著 作者:伊丽莎白·巴雷特·勃朗宁 本章:Sonnet 01 - 05

    Sonnet 01 - I t once us rong>

    I

    I t once us had sung

    Of t years, the dear and wished-for years,

    ho each one in a gracious hand appears

    to bear a gift for mortals, old or young:

    And, as I mused it in ique tongue,

    I saears,

    t, sad years, the melancholy years,

    turns had flung

    A sraightway I was ware,

    So weeping, ic Shape did move

    Behe hair:

    And a voice said in mastery, wrove,—

    Guess nohere,

    t Deat Love.

    Sonnet 02 - But only trong>

    II

    But only three in all Gods universe

    said,—himself, beside

    tening! and replied

    One of us . . . t he curse

    So darkly on my eyelids, as to amerce

    My sig if I had died,

    ts, placed there, would have signified

    Less absolute exclusion. Nay is worse

    From God thers, O my friend!

    Men could not part us heir worldly jars,

    Nor tempests bend;

    Our oucain-bars:

    And,  the end,

    e s voer for tars.

    Sonnet 03 - Unlike are rong>

    III

    Unlike are we, unlike, O princely !

    Unlike our uses and our destinies.

    Our ministering two angels look surprise

    On one anotrike at

    t

    A guest for queens to social pageantries,

    iter eyes

    tears even can make mine, to play t

    Of c  to do

    ittice-lig me,

    A poor, tired, hrough

    tree?

    the dew,amp;mdash;

    And Deat dig these agree.

    Sonnet 04 - t to some palace-floor

    IV

    t to some palace-floor,

    Most gracious singer of high poems! where

    ting, from the care

    Of c lips for more.

    And dost t tcoo poor

    For  think and bear

    to let thy music drop here unaware

    In folds of golden fulness at my door?

    Look up and see t broken in,

    ts and os builders in the roof!

    My cricket c thy mandolin.

    her proof

    Of desolation! thin

    t  sing . . . alone, aloof

    Sonnet 05 - I lift my  up solemnly

    V

    I lift my  up solemnly,

    As once Electra her sepulchral urn,

    And, looking in turn

    t t. Behold and see

    a great heap of grief lay hid in me,

    And he red wild sparkles dimly burn

    t in scorn

    Could tread t to darkness utterly,

    It mig if instead

    t beside me for to blow

    t up, . . . thine head,

    O my Beloved,  shee so,

    t none of all the fires shall scorch and shred

    tand farthen! go.


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