名人诗歌|The Lover Tells of the Rose in His Heart

All things uncomely and broken， all things worn out and old，

The cry of a child by the roadway， the creak of a lumbering^{1 cart，}

The heavy steps of the ploughman， splashing the wintry mould，

Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.

The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told；

I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart，

With the earth and the sky and the water， re-made， like a casket of gold

For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart