问英雄世界巨龙魔莉尔怎么打详解 详解怎么玩

i.the burial of the dead
april ** the cruellest month,breeding
lilacs out of the dead land,mixing
memory and desire,stirring
dull roots with spring rain.
winter kept us warm,covering
earth in forgetful snow,feeding
a little life with dried tubers.
summer surpr**ed us,coming over the starnbergersee
with a shower of rain;we stopped in the colonnade,
and went on in sunlight,into the hofgarten,10
and drank coffee,and talked for an hour.
bin gar keine russin,stamm' aus litauen,echt deutsch.
and when we were children,staying at the archduke's,
my cousin's,he took me out on a sled,
and i was frightened.he said,marie,
marie,hold on tight.and down we went.
in the mountains,there you feel free.
i read,much of the night,and go south in the winter.
what are the roots that clutch,what branches grow
out of th** stony rubb**h?son of man,20
you cannot say,or guess,for you know only
a heap of broken images,where the sun beats,
and the dead tree gives no shelter,the cricket no relief,
and the dry stone no sound of water.only
there ** shadow under th** red rock,
(come in under the shadow of th** red rock),
and i will show you something different from either
your shadow at morning striding behind you
or your shadow at evening r**ing to meet you;i will show you fear in a handful of dust.30
fr**ch weht der wind
der heimat zu
mein ir**ch kind,
wo weilest du?you g**e me hyacinths first a year ago;they called me the hyacinth girl.
yet when we came back,late,from the hyacinth garden,
your arms full,and your hair wet,i could not
speak,and my eyes failed,i was neither
living nor dead,and i knew nothing,40
looking into the heart of light,the silence.
od' und leer das meer.
madame sosostr**,famous clairvoyante,
had a bad cold,nevertheless
** known to be the w**est woman in europe,
with a wicked pack of cards.here,said she,
** your card,the drowned phoenician sailor,
(those are pearls that were h** eyes.look!here ** belladonna,the lady of the rocks,
the lady of situations.50
here ** the man with three st**es,and here the wheel,
and here ** the one-eyed merchant,and th** card,
which ** blank,** something he carries on h** back,
which i am forbidden to see.i do not find
the hanged man.fear death by water.
i see crowds of people,walking round in a ring.
thank you.if you see dear mrs.equitone,
tell her i bring the horoscope myself:
one must be so careful these days.
unreal city,60
under the brown fog of a winter dawn,
a crowd flowed over london bridge,so many,
i had not thought death had undone so many.
sighs,short and infrequent,were exhaled,
and each man fixed h** eyes before h** feet.
flowed up the hill and down king william street,
to where saint mary woolnoth kept the hours
with a dead sound on the final stroke of nine.
there i saw one i knew,and stopped him,crying"stetson!you who were with me in the ships at mylae!70
that corpse you planted last year in your garden,
has it begun to sprout?will it bloom th** year?or has the sudden frost d**turbed its bed?oh keep the dog far hence,that's friend to men,
or with h** nails he'll dig it up again!you!hypocrite lecteur!mon semblable,-mon frere!ii.a game of chess
the chair she sat in,like a burn**hed throne,
glowed on the marble,where the glass
held up by standards wrought with fruited vines
from which a golden cupidon peeped out 80
(another hid h** eyes behind h** wing)
doubled the flames of sevenbranched candelabra
reflecting light upon the table as
the glitter of her jewels rose to meet it,
from satin cases poured in rich profusion;in vials of ivory and coloured glass
unstoppered,lurked her strange synthetic perfumes,
unguent,powdered,or liquid-troubled,confused
and drowned the sense in odours;stirred by the air
that freshened from the window,these ascended 90
in fattening the prolonged candle-flames,
flung their smoke into the laquearia,
stirring the pattern on the coffered ceiling.
huge sea-wood fed with copper
burned green and orange,framed by the coloured stone,
in which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
above the antique mantel was d**played
as though a window g**e upon the sylvan scene
the change of philomel,by the barbarous king
so rudely forced;yet there the nightingale 100
filled all the desert with inviolable voice
and still she cried,and still the world pursues,
jug jug"to dirty ears.
and other withered stumps of time
were told upon the walls;staring forms
leaned out,leaning,hushing the room enclosed.
footsteps shuffled on the stair.
under the firelight,under the brush,her hair
spread out in fiery points
glowed into words,then would be s**agely still.110
my nerves are bad to-night.yes,bad.stay with me.
speak to me.why do you never speak.speak.
what are you thinking of?what thinking?what?i never know what you are thinking.think.
i think we are in rats' alley
where the dead men lost their bones.
what ** that no**e?the wind under the door.
what ** that no**e now?what ** the wind doing?nothing again nothing.120
do
you know nothing?do you see nothing?do you remember
nothing?i remember
those are pearls that were h** eyes.
are you alive,or not?** there nothing in your head?but
o o o o that shakespeherian rag-
it's so elegant
so intelligent 130
what shall i do now?what shall i do?i shall rush out as i am,and walk the street
with my hair down,so.what shall we do to-morrow?what shall we ever do?the hot water at ten.
and if it rains,a closed car at four.
and we shall play a game of chess,
pressing lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
when lil's hu**and got demobbed,i said-
i didn't mince my words,i said to her myself,140
hurry up please its time
now albert's coming back,make yourself a bit smart.
he'll want to know what you done with that money he g**e you
to get yourself some teeth.he did,i was there.
you h**e them all out,lil,and get a nice set,
he said,i swear,i can't bear to look at you.
and no can't i,i said,and think of poor albert,
he's been in the army four years,he wants a good time,
and if you don't give it him,there's others will,i said.
oh ** there,she said.something o' that,i said.150
then i'll know who to thank,she said,and give me a straight look.
hurry up please its time
if you don't like it you can get on with it,i said.
others can pick and choose if you can't.
but if albert makes off,it won't be for lack of telling.
you ought to be ashamed,i said,to look so antique.
(and her only thirty-one.)
i can't help it,she said,pulling a long face,
it's them pills i took,to bring it off,she said.
(she's had five already,and nearly died of young george.)160
the chem**t said it would be alright,but i've never been the same.
you are a proper fool,i said.
well,if albert won't le**e you alone,there it **,i said,
what you get married for if you don't want children?hurry up please its time
well,that sunday albert was home,they had a hot gammon,
and they asked me in to dinner,to get the beauty of it hot-
hurry up please its time
hurry up please its time
goonight bill.goonight lou.goonight may.goonight.170
ta ta.goonight.goonight.
good night,ladies,good night,sweet ladies,good night,good night.
iii.the fire sermon
the river's tent ** broken:the last fingers of leaf
clutch and sink into the wet bank.the wind
crosses the brown land,unheard.the nymphs are departed.
sweet thames,run softly,till i end my song.
the river bears no empty bottles,sandwich **s,
silk handkerchiefs,cardboard boxes,cigarette ends
or other testimony of summer nights.the nymphs are departed.
and their friends,the loitering heirs of city directors;180
departed,h**e left no addresses.
by the waters of leman i sat down and wept.
sweet thames,run softly till i end my song,
sweet thames,run softly,for i speak not loud or long.
but at my back in a cold blast i hear
the rattle of the bones,and chuckle spread from ear to ear.
a rat crept softly through the vegetation
dragging its slimy belly on the bank
while i was f**hing in the dull canal
on a winter evening round behind the gashouse 190
musing upon the king my brother's wreck
and on the king my father's death before him.
white bodies naked on the low damp ground
and bones cast in a little low dry garret,
rattled by the rat's foot only,year to year.
but at my back from time to time i hear
the sound of horns and motors,which shall bring
sweeney to mrs.porter in the spring.
o the moon shone bright on mrs.porter
and on her daughter 200
they wash their feet in soda water
et o ces voix d'enfants,chantant dans la coupole!twit twit twit
jug jug jug jug jug jug
so rudely forc'd.
tereu
unreal city
under the brown fog of a winter noon
mr.eugenides,the smyrna merchant
unsh**en,with a pocket full of currants 210
c.i.f.london:documents at sight,
asked me in ...