 | Virginia Woolf - 2005 - 1028 頁
...thought. She was astonishingly beautiful. Her beauty seemed to him, if that were possible, to increase. Yet seem'd it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play, she finished. 'Well?' she said, echoing his smile dreamily, looking up from her book. 'As with your... | |
 | J. B. Leishman - 2005 - 264 頁
...absence Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose; They were but, sweet, but figures of delight, Drawn after you, you pattern of all those. (98, 11. 9-12) Since that characteristically Shakespearean hyperbole (or whatever we may decide to... | |
 | Shakespeare, William - 2006 - 366 頁
...grew; Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose. They were but sweet, but figures of delight Drawn after you, you pattern of all those; Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away, As with your shadow I with these did play. Sonnets Sonnet 99... | |
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... with him: Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell Of different flowers in odour and in hue, Could make me any summer's story tell, Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew : Nor did I wonder at the lily's white, Nor praise the deep... 
