正文 The Prisoner

The Prisoner

I t the dismal time by months and years

Since last I felt the green sward under foot,

And the great breath of all things summer-

Met mine upon my lips. h appears

As strao me as dreams of distant spheres

Or thoughts of Heaven we weep at. Natures lute

Sounds on, behind this door so closely shut,

A strange wild music to the prisoners ears,

Dilated by the distaill the brain

Grows dim with fancies which it feels too

While ever, with a visionary pain,

Past the precluded senses, sweep and Rhine

Streams, forests, glades, and many a golden train

Of sunlit hills transfigured to Divine.

Elizabeth Barrett Browning

(ò﹏ò)

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