It heeds no whit the tick-tack-tock of Time

And with its sweetness all the night endow'th.

O beauteous rose! O shrub without a thorn!

O velvet petals unsmutched of the mire!

For this my life was manifestly born,

To climb toward thy lips, and never tire!

Tales from a Rolltop Desk · 第 16 / 59 题