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<strong>The Prisoner</strong>I t the dismal time by months and years
Since last I felt t<var></var>he green sward under foot,
And the great breath of all things summer-
Met mine upon my lips. h appears
As strao me as dreams of distant spheres
Or thoughts of Heaven we weep at. Natures lute
Sounds on, behind this door so closely shut,
A strange wild music to the prisoners ears,
Dilated by the distaill the brain
Grows dim with fancies which it feels too
While ever, wit<dfn></dfn>h a visionary pain,
Past the precluded senses, sweep and Rhine
Streams, forests, glades, and many a golden train
Of sunlit hills transfigured t<tt></tt>o Divine.
<strong>Elizabeth Barrett Browning</strong>
百度搜索 SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE AND OTHER LOVE POEMS 天涯 或 SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE AND OTHER LOVE POEMS 天涯在线书库 即可找到本书最新章节.