原版英文故事与诗歌：Town & Country
时间：2013-09-10 05:36:50
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（单词翻译）
Read the poems
Progress
by Osbert Sitwell
The city's heat is like a leaden pall-
Its lowered lamps glow in the midnight air
Through the dark
tapestry3 of night. The tall
Black houses crush the creeping beggars down,
Who walk beneath and think of breezes cool,
Of silver bodies bathing in a pool;
Or trees that whisper in some far, small town
Whose quiet nursed them, when they thought that
Was merely metal, not a grave of mould
In which men bury all that's fine and fair.
When they could chase the jewelled butterfly
Through the green bracken-scented lanes or sigh
For all the future held so rich and rare;
When, though they knew it not, their baby cries
Were lovely as the jewelled butterflies.
The City
by Charles Hanson Towne
That flourished in the City like
foul5 weeds,
I sought blue rivers and green, opulent meads,
And leagues of unregarded loneliness
Whereon no foot of man had seemed to press,
I did not know how great had been my needs,
How wise the woodland’s gospels and her
creeds6,
How good her faith to one long comfortless.
But in the silence came a Voice to me;
In every wind it murmured, and I knew
It would not cease though far my heart might roam.
It called me in the sunrise and the dew,
The jealous City, whispering always-“Home!” Poems - Town and Country
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