In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the second quarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of the name of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day another English child was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor, who did want him. All England wanted him too. England had so longed for him, and hoped for him, and prayed God for him, that, now that he was really come, the people went nearly mad for joy. Mere aquaintancees hugged and kissed each other and cried. Everybod took a holiday, and hign and low, rich and poor, feasted and danced and sang, and got very mellow; and they kept this up for days and nights together. (查看原文)
还没人写过短评呢