外国诗歌两首

其一：
                                                                    Youth
                                                                          by Samuel Ullman
　　Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, a quality of the imagination, a vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.
　　Youth means a temperamental predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the love of ease. This often exists in a man of 60 more than a boy of 20. Nobody grows old merely by a number of years. We grow old by deserting our ideals.
　　Years may wrinkle the skin, but to give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul. Worry, fear, self-distrust bows the heart and turns the spirit back to dust.
　　Whether 60 or 16, there is in every human being’s heart the lure of wonder,the unfailing childlike appetite for what’s next and the joy of the game of living.　In the center of your heart and my heart there is a wireless station: so long as it receives messages of beauty, hope, cheer, courage and power from men and from the Infinite, so long are you young.
　　When the aerials are down, and your spirit is covered with snows of cynicism and the ice of pessimism, then you are grown old, even at 20, but as long as your aerials are up, to catch waves of optimism, there is hope you may die young at 80.
其二：
                                                        The Road Not Taken
                                                                                by Robert Frost
                                            Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
                                            And sorry I could not travel both
                                            And be one traveler, long I stood
                                            And looked down one as far as I could
                                            To where it bent in the undergrowth;
                                            
                                            Then took the other, as just as fair
                                            And having perhaps the better claim,
                                            Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
                                            Though as for that the passing there
                                            Had worn them really about the same,
                                            
                                            And both that morning equally lay
                                            In leaves no step had trodden black.
                                            Oh, I kept the first for another day!
                                            Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
                                            I doubted if I should ever come back.
                                            
                                            I shall be telling this with a sigh
                                            Somewhere ages and ages hence:
                                            Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
                                            I took the one less traveled by,
                                            And that has made all the difference.