上海龙凤shlf最新地址Poem: The New Remorse

The sin was mine; I did not understand.

So now is music prisoned in her cave,

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Save where some ebbing desultory wave

Frets with its restless whirls this meagre strand.

And in the withered hollow of this land

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Hath Summer dug herself so deep a grave,

上海龙凤shlf最新地址That hardly can the leaden willow crave

上海龙凤shlf最新地址One silver blossom from keen Winter's hand.

But who is this who cometh by the shore?

(Nay, love, look up and wonder!)  Who is this

Who cometh in dyed garments from the South?

上海龙凤shlf最新地址It is thy new-found Lord, and he shall kiss

上海龙凤shlf最新地址The yet unravished roses of thy mouth,

And I shall weep and worship, as before.