我黎明起身屈膝吹火，
等待火苗儿闪烁发光；
然后我必须洗扫烘烤，
直到群星又眨眼初上；
而年青人却久卧在床，
蒙绸盖缎甜蜜入梦乡；
哪怕风卷头发也叹气，
以懒惰打发美好时光；
因为我老就应当工作，
与火苗领会微弱淡凉。

The Song Of The Old Mother

I rise in the dawn, and I kneel and blow
Till the seed of the fire flicker and glow;
And then I must scrub and bake and sweep
Till stars are beginning to blink and peep;
And the young lie long and dream in their bed
Of the matching of ribbons for bosom and head,
And their day goes over in idleness,
And they sigh if the wind but lift a tress:
While I must work because I am old,
And the seed of the fire gets feeble and cold.

---By William Butler Yeats (爱尔兰，1865-1939)