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Epitaph on a Tyrant

分类: 英语诗歌 
by W. H. Auden

    Perfection, of a kind, was what he was after,

    And the poetry he invented was easy to understand;

    He knew human folly like the back of his hand,

    And was greatly interested in armies and fleets;

    When he laughed, respectable senators burst with laughter,

    And when he cried the little children died in the streets.

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