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吟遊詩人

To Helen

Helen, thy beauty is to me
□Like those Nicean barks of yore,
That gently, o'er a perfumed sea,
□The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
□To his own native shore.

On desperate seas long wont to roam,
□Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
□To the glory that was Greece,
□And the grandeur that was Rome.

Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
□How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
□Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
□Are Holy-Land!

EDGAR ALLAN POE

2009年4月4日土曜日


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