72. To Mary: It Is the Evening Hour

——J. Clare

It is the evening hour,

How silent all doth lie:

The horned moon she shows her face

In the river with the sky.

Just by the path on which we pass,

The flaggy lake lies still as glass.

Spirit of her I love,

Whispering to me

Stories of sweet visions as I rove,

Here stop, and crop with me

Sweet flowers that in the still hour grew,

We'll take them home, nor shake off the bright dew.

Mary, or sweet spirit of thee,

As the bright sun shines to-morrow

Thy dark eyes these flowers shall see,

Gathered by me in sorrow,

Into the still hour when my mind was free

To walk alone——yet wish I walked with thee.

72　致玛丽：这会儿是黄昏[1]

克莱

这会儿是黄昏，

万籁俱寂：

新月在银河夜空

露出她的脸。

长满菖蒲、明澈如镜的湖

静卧在我们走过的路边。

我爱她的幽灵，

当我悠悠而行，

时而停下脚步，摘取

寂静中生长的鲜艳花朵，

它向我窃窃低语，叙说甜美的故事，

我们要把花带回家，连同晶莹的露珠。

玛丽，或干脆称呼你可爱的幽灵，

当明天灿烂的太阳照耀，

你乌黑的双眸将看见

我在忧伤中采摘的这些花朵，

当我静下心来，独自走进

深沉的午夜——我仍希望与你一起漫步。

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[1]诗中的玛丽是诗人的初恋情人，但他们最终没有结合。这段情感经历苦恼了诗人许久。