我曾相信，正如面对一架明净竖琴

I held it ruth, with him who sings

　演绎出千种音调的他所相信的，

   To one clear harp in divers tones,

 　人类会以他们死去的自身

   That men may rnse on stepping-stones

作为阶石，迈向更高的事物。

Of otheir dead selves to higher things.

然而有谁会把岁月这般预示，

But who shall so forecast the years

  　定要在失去中寻回相称的收获？

    And find in loss a gain to match?

   　或是再伸出一只手，穿越时间去拾掇

    Or reach a hand thro' time to catch

那些泪水在久远之后的利息?

The far-off interest of tears?

让爱紧抓住痛苦以免一起沉溺，

Let Love clasp Grief lest both be drown'd,

　让黑暗保持她渡鸦的光泽。

    Let darkness keep her raven gloss:

 　哦，因为与丧失对酌，

    Ah, sweeter to be drunk with loss,

与死亡共舞，且顿足踏地，

To dance with death, to beat the ground,

 这些都要好过时间这个得胜者的姿态，

Than that the victor Hours should scorn

 　它只会嘲笑爱的徒劳，并夸耀说，

     The long result of love, and boast,

  　“瞧那个人，爱过，失去过，

     ‘Behold the man that loved and lost,

  但他所有的存在，也只剩下形骸。”

But all he was is overworn.’