A Man Young and Old（二）

    Human Dignity

    Like the moon her kindness is，

    If kindness I may call

    What has no comprehension in‘t，

    But is the same for all

    As though my sorrow were a scene

    Upon a painted wall.

    So like a bit of stone I lie

    Under a broken tree.

    I could recover if I shrieked¹

    My heart‘s agony

    To passing bird， but I am dumb

    From human dignity.