主题：譯雪萊《寄人》

ONE word is too often profaned

  For me to profane it,

One feeling too falsely disdain'd

  For thee to disdain it.

One hope is too like despair

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  For prudence to smother,

And pity from thee more dear

  Than that from another.

I can give not what men call love;

  But wilt thou accept not

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The worship the heart lifts above

  And the Heavens reject not:

The desire of the moth for the star,

  Of the night for the morrow,

The devotion to something afar

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  From the sphere of our sorrow?