To love me, I looked forward to the moon
To slacken all those bonds which seemed too soon
And, looking on myself, I seemed not one
For such man’s love!—more like an out-of-tune
Worn viol, a good singer would be wroth
To spoil his song with, and which, snatched in haste,
Is laid down at the first ill-sounding note.
I did not wrong myself so, but I placed
A wrong on thee. For perfect strains may float
’Neath master-hands, from instruments defaced,—
And great souls, at one stroke, may do and doat.
点击收听单词发音
1 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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2 loathe | |
v.厌恶,嫌恶 | |
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