XIV.

Kiss me, my father!

Touch me with your lips, as I touch those I love!

Breathe to me, while I hold you close, the secret of the wondrous

murmuring I envy!

For I fear I shall become crazed, if I cannot emulate it, and utter

myself as well as it.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 05, No. 30, April, 1860 A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics · 第 31 / 56 题