Those Winter Sundays(在线收听

     Sundays too my father got up early

  and put his clothes on in the blue black cold,

  then with cracked hands that ached

  from labor in the weekday weather made

  banked fires blaze..no one ever thanked him.

  I'dwake and hear the cold splintering ,breaking.

  When the rooms were warm,he'd call,

  and slowly i would rise and dress,

  fearing the chronic angers of that house  

  Speaking indifferemtly to him,

  who had driven out the cold

  and polished my good shoes as well.

  What did i know, what did i know

  of love's austere and lonely offices?

  原文地址:http://www.tingroom.com/listen/read/147728.html