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A sword, with the red rust on it,
一把劍，紅色的銹跡斑斑，
That flashed in the battle tide,
回想起，彌漫的戰(zhàn)火硝煙，
When from Lexington to Yorktown
從克星敦，再到約克鎮(zhèn)上，
Sorely men's souls were tried;
傷痛靈魂，經(jīng)歷生死考驗；
A plumed chapeau and a buckle,
羽毛裝飾的帽子，還有扣帶，
And many a relic fine,
珍藏以往，點滴難忘的紀(jì)念，
And, an by itself, the sampler,
樁樁件件，講述血腥昨天，
Framed in with berry and vine.
將漫長過去，雕刻成晶瑩珠串。
Faded the square of canvas,
畫布上，風(fēng)景早已黯淡，
And dim is the silken thread,
縷縷絲線，時光褪色成恍然，
But I think of white hands dimpled,
想起那優(yōu)雅雙手凸凹有致，
And a childish, sunny head;
稚氣面容，陽光下笑臉。
For here in cross and in tent stitch,
在這座十字架與帳篷縫腳里，
In a wreath of berry and vine,
系著一簇黑莓與葡萄花環(huán)，
She worked it a hundred years ago,
一百年前，她在這里縫活，
Elizabeth, Aged Nine.
九歲，九歲的伊麗莎白。
In and out in the sunshine,
晝夜在經(jīng)久輪回，
The little needle flashed,
細(xì)小的銀針飛閃，
And in and out on the rainy day,
雨季在走馬穿梭，
When the merry drops down plashed,
幸福的水花四濺。
As close she sat by her mother,
她緊挨母親坐著，
The little Puritan maid,
虔誠的清教徒女孩。
And did her piece in the sampler,
其他孩子攀爬玩耍，
While the other children played.
她忙著飛針走線。
