Far from the commoner way;
Old-time trills and falls by the brook-side still do I ponder,
Dreaming tomorrow today.
Come here, come, revive me, Sun–God, teach me, Apollo,
Measures descanted before;
Since I ancient verses, I emulous follow,
Prints in the marbles of yore.
Still strange, strange, they sound in old-young raiment invested,
Songs for the brain to forget —
Young song-birds elate to grave old temples benested
Piping and chirruping yet.
Thoughts? No thought has yet unskilled attempted to flutter
Trammelled so vilely1 in verse;
He who writes but aims at fame and his bread and his butter,
Won with a groan2 and a curse.
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1 vilely | |
adv.讨厌地,卑劣地 | |
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2 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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