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¡¾¶Áд·Òë³éÌë05¡¿Ð´ÔÚÖÙÏĵÄÊ«£ºÒ¹ÀïµÄÏà»á The gray sea and the long black land; And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow, And quench its qpeed I¡¯the slushy sand. Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach; Three fields to cross till a farm appears; A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch And blue spurt of a lighted match, And a voice less loud, through its joys and fears, Than the two hearts beating each to each! »ÒÉ«µÄ´óº££¬ºÚÉ«µÄ½µØ£» »Æ»ÆµÄ°ëÂÖÔÂÓÖµÍÓÖ´ó£» Ð¡²¨À˾ªÊ§ÁËËüÃǵÄ˯Ãߣ¬ Ìø³ÉÁËÒ»µÀµÀ»ðÖ¯µÄ·¢£¬ ´¬Í·ÍƽøÁË»¬ÁïµÄÄàɳ£¬ ϨÃðÁËËÙ¶È£¬ÎÒµ½ÁËСÍåÀï¡£ Ò»Ó¢Àïɳ̲ÉÏůºÍµÄº£Ï㣻 Èý¿éÌï´©¹ýÁË£¬Å©³¡²Å³öÏÖ¡£ ´°×ÓÉÏÇû÷һϣ¬¼±´ÙµÄ¹Îéߣ¬ ²ÁÁÁµÄ»ð²ñ¿ªÒ»¶äÀ¶»¨£¬ Ò»¸öµÍÓÓÖº¦ÅÂÓÖϲ»¶£¬ ·´²»¼°Á½¿ÅÐĶÔÌøµÃÕâôÏ죡 <THE END> |
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