Christina Rossetti

Gone were but the Winter，

Come were but the Spring，

I would go to a covert

Where the birds sing；

Where in the whitethorn

Singeth a thrush，

And a robin sings

In the holly-bush.

Full of fresh scents

Are the budding boughs

Arching high over

A cool green house；

Full of sweet scents，

And whispering air

Which sayeth softly：

We spread no snare；

Here dwell in safety，

Here dwell alone，

With a clear stream

And a mossy stone.

“Here the sun shineth

Most shadily；

Here is heard an echo

Of the far sea，

Though far off it be.”

寒冬褪尽，

春回大地，

我要去那幽幽丛林

听鸟啭莺啼；

山楂枝头上

歌鸫在鸣唱，

冬青树丛中

知更鸟歌亦忙。

清新的芬芳

是覆满吐绿的枝条

舒展高耸为盖

下有绿舍荫凉；

甜蜜的芬芳，

伴着风儿的细语

在耳畔柔声讲：

我们不设罗网；

这里宁静又安详，

幽居独处最相宜，

可以清泉为伴

还有石上苔痕苍苍。

“这里阳光明媚

处处树影斑驳；

这里可以聆听

大海遥远的回响，

纵然相隔路迢迢。”