It is Sunday now, John, and all have gone to church. The wagons have done passing and I have come out in the new grass to listen to the anthems. Three or four hens have followed me and we sit side by side. And while they crow and whisper, I'll tell you what I see today, and what I would that you saw.

 

You remember the crumbling wall that divides us from Mr. Sweetzer; and the crumbling elms and evergreens and other crumbling things that spring and fade and cast their bloom within a simple twelve months? Well they are here! And skies on me fair and far that Italy in blue eye look down, up. See? Away a league from here on the way to heaven. And here a robin's just got home and giddy crows and jays and - will you trust me as I live - here's a bumble bee. Not such as summer brings, John, earnest manly bees, but a kind of a cockney, dressed in jaunty clothes. Much that is gay have I to show. If you were here with me, John, upon this April grass!

 

Then there are sadder features. Here and there, wings have gone to dust that fluttered so last year, a moldering prune, an empty house in which a bird resided where last year's flies their errand ran and last year's crickets fell. We too are flying, fading, John. And the song here lies soon upon the lips that live us now will have hummed and ended.

 

Thank you for your letter, John. Glad I was to get it, and gladder had I got them both. And glad indeed to see if in your heart another lies bound one day to me amid your momentous cares, pleasant to know that langsyne has its own place. That nook and cranny still retain their accustomed guest and when busier cares and dustier days and cobwebs less on frequent shut what was away. Still as a ballad hummed and lost, remember early friend and drop a tear if a troubadour that strain may chance to sing.

 

 

约翰：今天是礼拜天，他们全都上教堂去了。车子消失了踪影，我走到新长出的草地上倾听着赞美诗。有三、四只母鸡尾随着我，我们并排坐在一起。它们叽叽咕咕地窃窃私语着，我要告诉你我今日的所见所闻，还有我将见到的那些你所看过的旧景旧物。

 

你可还记得隔着斯威则先生和我们的那堵烂墙，还有那些斑驳的榆树、常青树、以及别的摧枯拉朽的东西吗？在短短的十二个月里，它们由荣至枯，接而又复苏了生机。嗳，它们就在这儿呢！我头顶上，意大利的晴空辽远，蓝色的眼睛向下俯视着。就在上边。你看到了吗？一群队伍经过，远去了，走向天国。一只知更鸟正在归巢，这儿还有令人眼花缭乱的乌鸦与鸟儿，还有-无论如何请相信我 - 这儿还有一只大黄蜂。约翰，它可不像夏天里那些辛勤而雄赳赳的蜜蜂，而像是一个穿戴洋洋自得的伦敦东区的人。我一定得把这告诉你，这多让人感到欣喜快乐呀。约翰，如果你能和我一同在这四月的青草上，那该有多好！

 

还有些事是让人伤心的。每一处，去年曾经拍打的羽翼都化成了尘土，李子在腐烂，那座房子 - 鸟儿曾在里面栖息，去年蝇还在那儿奔忙，去年蟋蟀还在那儿戏耍 - 如今却已空空。我们也同样会飞舞着，然后老去，约翰。如今在我们唇上轻绕的曲子很快也要唱完了。

 

谢谢你的来信，约翰。我很高兴收到了信，更高兴的是收到了两封。看到在你心中有一份对我的深切关怀的确令我开怀，明白到你对旧情的珍重令我喜悦。有时候，忙碌、尘封的岁月与蛛网也不会将往日隔离，在我心灵深处，仍有一个僻静的角落永远都等待着故友的来访。那么在游吟诗人歌唱的时候，记着你的旧日朋友吧，也别忘了洒一滴清泪，无论歌谣唱起唱毕。