介绍:
主播：梦雪
制作：郑小猫
美工：阿拾
宣传：高呆呆&陈嚣
45.All Overgrown By Cunning Moss
All overgrown by cunning moss,
All interspersed with weed,
The little cage of “Currer Bell”
In quiet “Haworth” laid.
Gathered from many wanderings—
Gethsemane can tell
Thro’ what transporting anguish
She reached the Asphodel!
Soft falls the sounds of Eden
Upon her puzzled ear—
Oh what an afternoon for Heaven,
When “Bronte” entered there!
46.You Taught Me Waiting With Myself
You taught me Waiting with Myself—
Appointment strictly kept—
You taught me fortitude of Fate—
This—also—I have learnt—
An Altitude of Death, that could
No bitterer debar
Than Life—had done—before it—
Yet—there is a Science more—
The Heaven you know—to understand
That you be not ashamed
Of Me—in Christ’s bright Audience
Upon the further Hand—
47. The Brain—is Wider Than The Sky
The Brain—is wider than the Sky—
For—put them side by side—
The one the other will contain
With ease—and You—beside—
The Brain is deeper than the sea—
For—hold them—Blue to Blue—
The one the other will absorb—
As Sponges—Buckets—do—
The Brain is just the weight of God—
For—Heft them—Pound for Pound—
And they will differ—if they do—
As Syllable from Sound—
48.Abraham To Kill Him
Abraham to kill him
Was distinctly told—
Isaac was an Urchin—
Abraham was old—
Not a hesitation—
Abraham complied—
Flattered by Obeisance
Tyranny demurred—
Isaac—to his children
Lived to tell the tale—
Moral—with a mastiff
Manners may prevail.
49.Faith—is The Pierless Bridge
Faith—is the Pierless Bridge
Supporting what We see
Unto the Scene that We do not—
Too slender for the eye
It bears the Soul as bold
As it were rocked in Steel
With Arms of Steel at either side—
It joins—behind the Veil
To what, could We presume
The Bridge would cease to be
To Our far, vacillating Feet
A first Necessity.
50.T Was Just This Time Last Year I Died.
‘T was just this time last year I died.
I know I heard the corn,
When I was carried by the farms,–
It had the tassels on.
I thought how yellow it would look
When Richard went to mill;
And then I wanted to get out,
But something held my will.
I thought just how red apples wedged
The stubble’s joints between;
And carts went stooping round the fields
To take the pumpkins in.
I wondered which would miss me least,
And when Thanksgiving came,
If father’d multiply the plates
To make an even sum.
And if my stocking hung too high,
Would it blur the Christmas glee,
That not a Santa Claus could reach
The altitude of me?
But this sort grieved myself, and so
I thought how it would be
When just this time, some perfect year,
Themselves should come to me.
51.There’s A Certain Slant Of Light
There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons–
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes–
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us–
We can find no scar,
But internal difference,
Where the Meanings, are–
None may teach it–Any–
‘Tis the Seal Despair–
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the air–
When it comes, the Landscape listens–
Shadows–hold their breath–
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death–
52.Before You Thought Of Spring,
Before you thought of spring,
Except as a surmise,
You see, God bless his suddenness,
A fellow in the skies
Of independent hues,
A little weather-worn,
Inspiriting habiliments
Of indigo and brown.
With specimens of song,
As if for you to choose,
Discretion in the interval,
With gay delays he goes
To some superior tree
Without a single leaf,
And shouts for joy to nobody
But his seraphic self!
53.A Single Screw Of Flesh
Is all that pins the Soul
That stands for Deity, to Mine,
Upon my side the Veil—
Once witnessed of the Gauze—
Its name is put away
As far from mine, as if no plight
Had printed yesterday,
In tender—solemn Alphabet,
My eyes just turned to see,
When it was smuggled by my sight
Into Eternity—
More Hands—to hold—These are but Two—
One more new-mailed Nerve
Just granted, for the Peril’s sake—
Some striding—Giant—Love—
So greater than the Gods can show,
They slink before the Clay,
That not for all their Heaven can boast
Will let its Keepsake—go
54.Sunset At Night—is Natural
Sunset at Night—is natural—
But Sunset on the Dawn
Reverses Nature—Master—
So Midnight’s—due—at Noon.
Eclipses be—predicted—
And Science bows them in—
But do one face us suddenly—
Jehovah’s Watch—is wrong.
55.Besides The Autumn Poets Sing
Besides the Autumn poets sing
A few prosaic days
A little this side of the snow
And that side of the Haze—
A few incisive Mornings—
A few Ascetic Eves—
Gone—Mr. Bryant’s “Golden Rod”—
And Mr. Thomson’s “sheaves.”
Still, is the bustle in the Brook—
Sealed are the spicy valves—
Mesmeric fingers softly touch
The Eyes of many Elves—
Perhaps a squirrel may remain—
My sentiments to share—
Grant me, Oh Lord, a sunny mind—
Thy windy will to bear!
56.Before I Got My Eye Put Out
Before I got my eye put out
I liked as well to see—
As other Creatures, that have Eyes
And know no other way—
But were it told to me—Today—
That I might have the sky
For mine—I tell you that my Heart
Would split, for size of me—
The Meadows—mine—
The Mountains—mine—
All Forests—Stintless Stars—
As much of Noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes—
The Motions of the Dipping Birds—
The Morning’s Amber Road—
For mine—to look at when I liked—
The News would strike me dead—
So safer—guess—with just my soul
Upon the Window pane—
Where other Creatures put their eyes—
Incautious—of the Sun—
57.First Robin
I dreaded that first robin so,
But he is mastered now,
And I’m accustomed to him grown,–
He hurts a little, though.
I thought if I could only live
Till that first shout got by,
Not all pianos in the woods
Had power to mangle me.
I dared not meet the daffodils,
For fear their yellow gown
Would pierce me with a fashion
So foreign to my own.
I wished the grass would hurry,
So when ‘t was time to see,
He’d be too tall, the tallest one
Could stretch to look at me.
I could not bear the bees should come,
I wished they’d stay away
In those dim countries where they go:
What word had they for me?
They’re here, though; not a creature failed,
No blossom stayed away
In gentle deference to me,
The Queen of Calvary.
Each one salutes me as he goes,
And I my childish plumes
Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment
Of their unthinking drums.
58.An Awful Tempest Mashed The Air
An awful Tempest mashed the air—
The clouds were gaunt, and few—
A Black—as of a Spectre’s Cloak
Hid Heaven and Earth from view.
The creatures chuckled on the Roofs—
And whistled in the air—
And shook their fists—
And gnashed their teeth—
And swung their frenzied hair.
The morning lit—the Birds arose—
The Monster’s faded eyes
Turned slowly to his native coast—
And peace—was Paradise!
59.All Forgot For Recollecting
All forgot for recollecting
Just a paltry One—
All forsook, for just a Stranger’s
New Accompanying—
Grace of Wealth, and Grace of Station
Less accounted than
An unknown Esteem possessing—
Estimate—Who can—
Home effaced—Her faces dwindled—
Nature—altered small—
Sun—if shone—or Storm—if shattered—
Overlooked I all—
Dropped—my fate—a timid Pebble—
In thy bolder Sea—
Prove—me—Sweet—if I regret it—
Prove Myself—of Thee—
60.For Every Bird A Nest
For every Bird a Nest—
Wherefore in timid quest
Some little Wren goes seeking round—
Wherefore when boughs are free—
Households in every tree—
Pilgrim be found?
Perhaps a home too high—
Ah Aristocracy!
The little Wren desires—
Perhaps of twig so fine—
Of twine e’en superfine,
Her pride aspires—
The Lark is not ashamed
To build upon the ground
Her modest house—
Yet who of all the throng
Dancing around the sun
Does so rejoice?
61.You’ll Know It—as You Know ‘Tis Noon
You’ll know it—as you know ’tis Noon—
By Glory—
As you do the Sun—
By Glory—
As you will in Heaven—
Know God the Father—and the Son.
By intuition, Mightiest Things
Assert themselves—and not by terms—
“I’m Midnight”—need the Midnight say—
“I’m Sunrise”—Need the Majesty?
Omnipotence—had not a Tongue—
His listp—is Lightning—and the Sun—
His Conversation—with the Sea—
“How shall you know”?
Consult your Eye!
62.I Measure Every Grief I Meet
I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, Eyes–
I wonder if It weighs like Mine–
Or has an Easier size.
I wonder if They bore it long–
Or did it just begin–
I could not tell the Date of Mine–
It feels so old a pain–
I wonder if it hurts to live–
And if They have to try–
And whether–could They choose between–
It would not be–to die–
I note that Some–gone patient long–
At length, renew their smile–
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil–
I wonder if when Years have piled–
Some Thousands–on the Harm–
That hurt them early–such a lapse
Could give them any Balm–
Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve–
Enlightened to a larger Pain–
In Contrast with the Love–
The Grieved–are many–I am told–
There is the various Cause–
Death–is but one–and comes but once–
And only nails the eyes–
There’s Grief of Want–and grief of Cold–
A sort they call “Despair”–
There’s Banishment from native Eyes–
In Sight of Native Air–
And though I may not guess the kind–
Correctly–yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary–
To note the fashions–of the Cross–
And how they’re mostly worn–
Still fascinated to presume
That Some–are like My Own–
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