SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE AND OTHER LOVE POEMS 精彩片段:
XXI-XXV
XXI
Say over again, and yet once over again,
That thou dost love me. Though the word repeated
Should seem a cuckoo-song, as thou dost treat it,
Remember, never to the hill or plain,
Valley and wood, without her cuckoo-strain
Comes the fresh Spring in all her green completed.
Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted
By a doubtful spirit-voice, in that doubts pain
Cry, Speak once more--thou lovest ! Who can fear
Too many stars, though each in heaven shall roll,
Too many flowers, though each shall crown the year ?
Say thou dost love me, love me, love me--toll
The silver iterance !--only minding, Dear,