Impartiality - Sách nói Miễn phí

DRIFTING

                         My soul to-day
                         Is far away,
                    Sailing the Vesuvian Bay;
                         My winged boat
                         A bird afloat,
                    Swings round the purple peaks remote:—

                         Round purple peaks
                         It sails, and seeks
                    Blue inlets and their crystal creeks,
                         Where high rocks throw,
                         Through deeps below,
                    A duplicated golden glow.

                         Far, vague, and dim,
                         The mountains swim;
                    While an Vesuvius' misty brim,
                         With outstretched hands,
                         The gray smoke stands
                    O'erlooking the volcanic lands.

                         Here Ischia smiles
                         O'er liquid miles;
                    And yonder, bluest of the isles,
                         Calm Capri waits,
                         Her sapphire gates
                    Beguiling to her bright estates.

                         I heed not, if
                         My rippling skiff
                    Float swift or slow from cliff to cliff;
                         With dreamful eyes
                         My spirit lies
                    Under the walls of Paradise.

                         Under the walls
                         Where swells and falls
                    The Bay's deep breast at intervals
                         At peace I lie,
                         Blown softly by,
                    A cloud upon this liquid sky.

                         The day, so mild,
                         Is Heaven's own child,
                    With Earth and Ocean reconciled;
                         The airs I feel
                         Around me steal
                    Are murmuring to the murmuring keel.

                         Over the rail
                         My hand I trail
                    Within the shadow of the sail,
                         A joy intense,
                         The cooling sense
                    Glides down my drowsy indolence.

                         With dreamful eyes
                         My spirit lies
                    Where Summer sings and never dies,
                         O'erveiled with vines
                         She glows and shines
                    Among her future oil and wines.

                         Her children, hid
                         The cliffs amid,
                    Are gambolling with the gambolling kid;
                         Or down the walls,
                         With tipsy calls,
                    Laugh on the rocks like waterfalls.

                         The fisher's child,
                         With tresses wild,
                    Unto the smooth, bright sand beguiled,
                         With glowing lips
                         Sings as she skips,
                    Or gazes at the far-off ships.

                         Yon deep bark goes
                         Where traffic blows,
                    From lands of sun to lands of snows;
                         This happier one,—
                         Its course is run
                    From lands of snow to lands of sun.

                         O happy ship,
                         To rise and dip,
                    With the blue crystal at your lip!
                         O happy crew,
                         My heart with you
                    Sails, and sails, and sings anew!

                         No more, no more
                         The worldly shore
                    Upbraids me with its loud uproar
                         With dreamful eyes
                         My spirit lies
                    Under the walls of Paradise!