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關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩詞欣賞

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  英語詩歌因其節(jié)奏、思想意義及藝術(shù)價(jià)值,在英語教學(xué)中占有一席之地。小編精心收集了關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩詞,供大家欣賞學(xué)習(xí)!

  關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩詞篇1

  The Pumpkin

  by John Greenleaf Whittier

  Oh, greenly and fair in the lands of the sun,

  The vines of the gourd and the rich melon run,

  And the rock and the tree and the cottage enfold,

  With broad leaves all greenness and blossoms all gold,

  Like that which o'er Nineveh's prophet once grew,

  While he waited to know that his warning was true,

  And longed for the storm-cloud, and listened in vain

  For the rush of the whirlwind and red fire-rain.

  On the banks of the Xenil the dark Spanish maiden

  Comes up with the fruit of the tangled vine laden;

  And the Creole of Cuba laughs out to behold

  Through orange-leaves shining the broad spheres of gold;

  Yet with dearer delight from his home in the North,

  On the fields of his harvest the Yankee looks forth,

  Where crook-necks are coiling and yellow fruit shines,

  And the sun of September melts down on his vines.

  Ah! on Thanksgiving day, when from East and from West,

  From North and from South comes the pilgrim and guest;

  When the gray-haired New Englander sees round his board

  The old broken links of affection restored;

  When the care-wearied man seeks his mother once more,

  And the worn matron smiles where the girl smiled before;

  What moistens the lip and what brightens the eye,

  What calls back the past, like the rich Pumpkin pie?

  Oh, fruit loved of boyhood! the old days recalling,

  When wood-grapes were purpling and brown nuts were falling!

  When wild, ugly faces we carved in its skin,

  Glaring out through the dark with a candle within!

  When we laughed round the corn-heap, with hearts all in tune,

  Our chair a broad pumpkin, - our lantern the moon,

  Telling tales of the fairy who travelled like steam

  In a pumpkin-shell coach, with two rats for her team!

  Then thanks for thy present! none sweeter or better

  E'er smoked from an oven or circled a platter!

  Fairer hands never wrought at a pastry more fine,

  Brighter eyes never watched o'er its baking, than thine!

  And the prayer, which my mouth is too full to express,

  Swells my heart that thy shadow may never be less,

  That the days of thy lot may be lengthened below,

  And the fame of thy worth like a pumpkin-vine grow,

  And thy life be as sweet, and its last sunset sky

  Golden-tinted and fair as thy own Pumpkin pie!

  關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩詞篇2

  The Question of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

  by Barbara Hurd

  A teacher at the chalkboard turns

  and imagines pushing desks

  together, lowering her body

  onto the one whose question

  about character and conflict

  still lingers in his mouth.

  Behind a curtain of textbook and chalk,

  she shudders thick and shaded

  inside Jekyll's bones, spine twisting in the hands

  of what she thought she'd turned to ash

  by the heat of her good intentions.

  She unbuttons the hugeness of his coat,

  hears her voice gone dwarfish and husky,

  feels Jekyll's nausea in her mouth,

  Hyde's lust grinding in her molars

  while stage crews haul away bridges,

  drag in back alleys

  and the curtain begins to rise.

  It's moments like this,

  the director gone for coffee,

  stage crew caught with their arms full,

  when we know what rises in us unbidden

  is woven to us,

  more intimate than a lover.

  關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩詞篇3

  The Red Poppy

  by Louise Glück

  The great thing

  is not having

  a mind. Feelings:

  oh, I have those; they

  govern me. I have

  a lord in heaven

  called the sun, and open

  for him, showing him

  the fire of my own heart, fire

  like his presence.

  What could such glory be

  if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,

  were you like me once, long ago,

  before you were human? Did you

  permit yourselves

  to open once, who would never

  open again? Because in truth

  I am speaking now

  the way you do. I speak

  because I am shattered

  關(guān)于經(jīng)典英文詩詞篇4

  The Republic

  by Paul Mariani

  Midnight. For the past three hours

  I've raked over Plato's Republic

  with my students, all of them John

  Jay cops, and now some of us

  have come to Rooney's to unwind.

  Boilermakers. Double shots and triples.

  Fitzgerald's still in his undercover

  clothes and giveaway white socks, and two

  lieutenants——Seluzzi in the sharkskin suit

  & D'Ambruzzo in the leather——have just

  invited me to catch their fancy (and illegal)

  digs somewhere up in Harlem, when

  this cop begins to tell his story:

  how he and his partner trailed

  this pusher for six weeks before

  they trapped him in a burnt-out

  tenement somewhere down in SoHo,

  one coming at him up the stairwell,

  the other up the fire escape

  and through a busted window. But by

  the time they've grabbed him

  he's standing over an open window

  and he's clean. The partner races down

  into the courtyard and begins going

  through the garbage until he finds

  what it is he's after: a white bag

  hanging from a junk mimosa like

  the Christmas gift it is, and which now

  he plants back on the suspect.

  Cross-examined by a lawyer who does his best

  to rattle them, he and his partner

  stick by their story, and the charges stick.

  Fitzgerald shrugs. Business as usual.

  But the cop goes on. Better to let

  the guy go free than under oath

  to have to lie like that.

  And suddenly you can hear the heavy

  suck of air before Seluzzi, who

  half an hour before was boasting

  about being on the take, staggers

  to his feet, outraged at what he's heard,

  and insists on taking the bastard

  downtown so they can book him.

  Which naturally brings to an end

  the discussion we've been having,

  and soon each of us is heading

  for an exit, embarrassed by the awkward

  light the cop has thrown on things.

  Which makes it clearer now to me why

  the State would offer someone like Socrates

  a shot of hemlock. And even clearer

  why Socrates would want to drink it.

  
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