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Camma英文诗歌
上海油压工作室 As one who poring on a Grecian urn
Scans the fair shapes some Attic hand hath made,
God with slim goddess, goodly man with maid,
And for their beauty's sake is loth to turn
And face the obvious day, must I not yearn
上海油压工作室 For many a secret moon of indolent bliss,
上海油压工作室 When in midmost shrine of Artemis
上海油压工作室 I see thee standing, antique-limbed, and stern?
And yet - methinks I'd rather see thee play
上海油压工作室 That serpent of old Nile, whose witchery
Made Emperors drunken, come, great Egypt, shake
上海油压工作室 Our stage with all thy mimic pageants! Nay,
上海油压工作室 I am grown sick of unreal passions, make
The world thine Actium, me thine Anthony!
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