我们坐在一起，一个夏天的结束，
    那个美丽的女人温和，你的亲密朋友，
    你和我交谈的诗歌。
    我说：“阿线将要花数小时的可能;
    然而，如果它似乎没有一刻的思想，
    我们的拼接和unstitching已经化为乌有。
    最好去看不起你的骨髓，骨骼
    和擦洗厨房路面，或打破石头
    一个老乞丐一样，在各种天气状况;
    为了阐明共同声音甜美
    更努力地工作，是比所有这些，然而
    被认为在嘈杂的设置惰
    银行家，校长，和神职人员
    烈士称为世界。
    ====
    WE sat together at one summer's end,
    That beautiful mild woman, your close friend,
    And you and I, and talked of poetry.
    I said, "A line will take us hours maybe;
    Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought,
    Our stitching and unstitching has been naught.
    Better go down upon your marrow-bones
    And scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stones
    Like an old pauper, in all kinds of weather;
    For to articulate sweet sounds together
    Is to work harder than all these, and yet
    Be thought an idler by the noisy set
    Of bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymen
    The martyrs call the world.'