ALL things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.
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2010-10-15 Moved by, and echoed with Yeats.
评分2010-10-15 Moved by, and echoed with Yeats.
评分2010-10-15 Moved by, and echoed with Yeats.
评分2010-10-15 Moved by, and echoed with Yeats.
评分2010-10-15 Moved by, and echoed with Yeats.
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