1.Written in March by William Wordsworth The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The plowboy is whooping-anon-anon: There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone! 2.Gathering Leaves By Robert Frost Spades take up leaves No better than spoons, And bags full of leaves Are light as ballons. I make a great noise Of rustling all day Like rabbit and deer running away But the mountains I raise Elude my embrace, Flowing over my arms And into my face
1.Written in March by William Wordsworth The cock is crowing, The stream is flowing, The small birds twitter, The lake doth glitter The green field sleeps in the sun; The oldest and youngest Are at work with the strongest; The cattle are grazing, Their heads never raising; There are forty feeding like one! Like an army defeated The snow hath retreated, And now doth fare ill On the top of the bare hill; The plowboy is whooping- anon-anon: There's joy in the mountains; There's life in the fountains; Small clouds are sailing, Blue sky prevailing; The rain is over and gone! 2. Gathering Leaves By Robert Frost Spades take up leaves No better than spoons, And bags full of leaves Are light as ballons. I make a great noise Of rustling all day Like rabbit and deer running away. But the mountains I raise Elude my embrace, Flowing over my arms And into my face
I may load and unload Again and again Till I fill the whole shed, And what have I then? Next to nothing for weight, And since they grew duller From contact with earth, Next to nothing for color. Next to nothing for use. But a crop is a crop, And who's to say where The harvest shall stop? 3.Spring and Fall to a young child by G.M.Hopkins(1844-1889) Margaret,are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves like the things of man,you With your fresh thoughts care for,can you? Ah!as the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by,nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you will weep and know why. Now no matter,child,the name: Sorrow's springs are the same. Nor mouth had,no nor mind,expressed What heart heard of,ghost guessed: It is the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for. 春和秋 霍普金斯 玛格丽特，你也要对着 那金色的林苑落叶伤悲？
I may load and unload Again and again Till I fill the whole shed, And what have I then? Next to nothing for weight, And since they grew duller From contact with earth, Next to nothing for color. Next to nothing for use. But a crop is a crop, And who's to say where The harvest shall stop? 3. Spring and Fall to a young child by G. M. Hopkins(1844-1889) Margaret, are you grieving Over Goldengrove unleaving? Leaves like the things of man, you With your fresh thoughts care for, can you? Ah! as the heart grows older It will come to such sights colder By and by, nor spare a sigh Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie; And yet you will weep and know why. Now no matter, child, the name: Sorrow's springs are the same. Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed What heart heard of, ghost guessed: It is the blight man was born for, It is Margaret you mourn for. 春和秋 霍普金斯 玛格丽特，你也要对着 那金色的林苑落叶伤悲？
那片片叶瓣，与人无异， 你年纪轻轻，也想着这些东西？ 啊！随着人心逐渐变老 如此凄凉景象也会来到： 不久，连叹息也无力气 虽然秋林凄凄，落叶迷离： 那时你将哭泣，明白其中道理。 孩子，不管叫什么名堂， 哀愁的渊源都是一样。 嘴巴和思想都无法表达， 只有心能听到，灵能猜出： 衰败枯萎是人生注定的运道， 玛格丽特，你是在为自己悲悼。 何功杰译
那片片叶瓣，与人无异， 你年纪轻轻，也想着这些东西？ 啊！随着人心逐渐变老 如此凄凉景象也会来到： 不久，连叹息也无力气 虽然秋林凄凄，落叶迷离； 那时你将哭泣，明白其中道理。 孩子，不管叫什么名堂， 哀愁的渊源都是一样。 嘴巴和思想都无法表达， 只有心能听到，灵能猜出： 衰败枯萎是人生注定的运道， 玛格丽特，你是在为自己悲悼。 何功杰译