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學(xué)習(xí)啦 > 學(xué)習(xí)英語(yǔ) > 英語(yǔ)閱讀 > 英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌 > 關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī)精選

關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī)精選

時(shí)間: 韋彥867 分享

關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī)精選

  詩(shī)歌是一個(gè)國(guó)家語(yǔ)言的濃縮 ,它以最凝煉的文字傳遞了時(shí)間與空間、物質(zhì)與精神、理智與情感 ,其中的文化因素是理解和欣賞詩(shī)歌的關(guān)鍵。小編精心收集了關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī),供大家欣賞學(xué)習(xí)!

  關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī)篇1

  Concord Hymn

  by Ralph Waldo Emerson

  By the rude bridge that arched the flood,

  Their flag to April's breeze unfurled,

  Here once the embattled farmers stood,

  And fired the shot heard round the world.

  The foe long since in silence slept;

  Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;

  And Time the ruined bridge has swept

  Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

  On this green bank, by this soft stream,

  We set to-day a votive stone;

  That memory may their deed redeem,

  When, like our sires, our sons are gone.

  Spirit, that made those heroes dare

  To die, and leave their children free,

  Bid Time and Nature gently spare

  The shaft we raise to them and thee.

  關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī)篇2

  Company of Moths

  by Michael Palmer

  We thought it could all be found in The Book of Poor Text,

  the shadow the boat casts, angled mast, fretted wake, indigo eye.

  Windows of the blind text,

  keening, parabolic nights.

  And the rolling sun, sun tumbling

  into then under, company of moths.

  Can you hear what I'm thinking, from there, even as you sleep?

  Streets of the Poor Text, where a child's gaze falls

  on the corpse of a horse beside a cart,

  whimpering dog, woman's mute mouth agape

  as if to say, We must move on,

  we must not stop, we must not watch.

  For after all, do the dead watch us?

  To memorize precisely the tint of a plum,

  curve of a body at rest (sun again),

  the words to each popular song,

  surely that would be enough.

  For are you not familiar with these crows by the shore?

  Did you not call them sea crows once?

  Did we not discuss the meaning of "as the crow flies"

  one day in that square - station of exile - under the reddest

  of suns? And then, almost as one, we said, It's time.

  And a plate shattered, a spoon fell to the floor,

  towels in a heap by the door.

  Drifts of cloud over

  steeples from the west.

  Faith in the Poor Text.

  Outline of stuff left behind.

  關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī)篇3

  The Suitor

  by Jane Kenyon

  We lie back to back.

  Curtains lift and fall,

  like the chest of someone sleeping.

  Wind moves the leaves of the box elder;

  they show their light undersides,

  turning all at once

  like a school of fish.

  Suddenly I understand that I am happy.

  For months this feeling

  has been coming closer,

  stopping for short visits,

  like a timid suitor.

  關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī)篇4

  The Sun Underfoot Among the Sundews

  by Amy Clampitt

  An ingenuity too astonishing

  to be quite fortuitous is

  this bog full of sundews,

  sphagnum-lines and shaped like a teacup.

  A step down and you're into it;

  a wilderness swallows you up:

  ankle-, then knee-, then midriff-

  to-shoulder-deep in wetfooted understory,

  an overhead spruce-tamarack horizon hinting

  you'll never get out of here.

  But the sun among the sundews, down there,

  is so bright, an underfoot

  webwork of carnivorous rubies,

  a star-swarm thick as the gnats

  they're set to catch, delectable

  double-faced cockleburs, each

  hair-tip a sticky mirror

  afire with sunlight, a million

  of them and again a million,

  each mirror a trap set to

  unhand believing,

  that either a First Cause said once,

  "Let there be sundews," and there were,

  or they've made their way here unaided

  other than by that backhand, round-

  about refusal to assume responsibility

  known as Natural Selection.

  But the sun underfoot is so dazzling

  down there among the sundews,

  there is so much light

  in that cup that, looking,

  you start to fall upward.

  關(guān)于好背的英文詩(shī)篇5

  The Taxiby Amy Lowell

  When I go away from you

  The world beats dead

  Like a slackened drum.

  I call out for you against the jutted stars

  And shout into the ridges of the wind.

  Streets coming fast,

  One after the other,

  Wedge you away from me,

  And the lamps of the city prick my eyes

  So that I can no longer see your face.

  Why should I leave you,

  To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?

  
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