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Upon a Dying Lady(五)

分类: 英语诗歌 
V

    Her Race

    She has not grown uncivil

    As narrow natures would

    And called the pleasures evil

    Happier days thought good;

    She knows herself a woman,

    No red and white of a face,

    Or rank, raised from a common

    Unreckonable race;

    And how should her heart fail her

    Or sickness break her will

    With her dead brother's valour

    For an example still?

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