作者：塞西尔·戴·刘易斯

Now she is like the white tree-rose

That takes a blessing from the sun:

Summer has filled her veins with light,

And her warm heart is washed with noon.

Or as a poplar, ceaselessly

Gives a soft answer to the wind:

Cool on the light her leaves lie sleeping,

Folding a column of sweet sound.

Powder the stars. Forbid the night

To wear those brilliants for a brooch

So soon, dark death, you may close down

The mines that made this beauty rich.

Her thoughts are pleiads, stooping low

O’er glades where nightingale has flown:

And like the luminous night around her

She has at heart a certain dawn.

（黄杲炘 译）