学习啦【英语文摘】 编辑：韦彦 发布时间：2016-08-29
He Wishes For The Cloths Of Heaven - W.B. Yeats
他期望有上苍的衣裳 - W.B. Yeats
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
One True Love
He never believed that true love existed.
His parents divorced when he was young and he didn't think that true love was able to survive in today's world.
He was proven wrong.
His grandparents were always supportive to the kids and tried to help them when their parents divorced. He knew they loved each other, just wasn't sure it was true love. He had never heard them say, "I love you or show any affection other than hugging. They had been married for over fifty years and he thought that their true love was gone.
But again he was wrong. His grandfather, Ralph, was struck ill in his junior year of college and he didn't know how serious it was until he fell and hurt his hip. While in the hospital, the doctors found out a tumor in his lungs. They told him that he had lung cancer and due to previous illnesses, they could not operate and he was too weak for chemotherapy.
It was around Thanksgiving Day and by Christmas his condition worsened. The cancer spread and in late January his sister away at college too, called him crying and said she was on her way home because the doctors told our family that their grandfather had only a week to live, that by the weekend he would no longer be with them. Their family came in from around the country and slayed next to his side.
It was there he realized that true love does exist today and will survive beyond death. Every night as his grandfather grew more fragile, he would whisper sweet words to grandmother, Madge. The night before he died, grandmother was walking out of his room and he said to her "I love you Madge baby".
The next morning he received a phone call at work that grandfather had passed during the night. Throughout his short battle with cancer, he realized how much two people can love each other and he realized how much it means to be loved and give love. It is the greatest gift on earth and it lasts beyond life because you never forget your one true love.
Time is running out for my friend.
While we are sitting at lunch she casually mentions she and her husband are thinking of startinga family.
“We’re taking a survey.” she says, half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”
“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
“I know,” she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous holidays...”
But that’s not what I mean at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her.
I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.
I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother willleave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be vulnerable forever.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without thinking: “What ifthat had been my child?” That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.
That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worsethan watching your child die.
I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter howsophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bearprotecting her cub.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she willbe professionally derailed by motherhood.
She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important businessmeeting, and she will think her baby’s sweet smell.
She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sureher child is all right.
I want my friend to know that every decision will no longer be routine.
That a five-year-old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s at arestaurant will become a major dilemma.
The issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that achild molester may be lurking in the lavatory.
However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as amother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the addedweight of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.
That her own life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.
She would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for moreyears—not to accomplish her own dreams—but to watch her children accomplish theirs.
I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to hit a ball.
I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for thefirst time.
I want her to taste the joy that is so real it hurts.
My friend’s look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.
“You’ll never regret it.” I say finally.
Then, squeezing my friend’s hand, I offer a prayer for her and me and all of the mere mortalwomen who stumble their way into this holiest of callings.