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优美的经典英文诗歌精选

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优美的经典英文诗歌精选

  英语诗歌作为文学的表现形式之一,在分类、节奏、韵律、构思、词序、选词等方面都自成体系,以自己独特的形式展示着诗人对生活的理解。小编精心收集了优美的经典英文诗歌,供大家欣赏学习!

  优美的经典英文诗歌篇1

  The Portrait

  by Stanley Kunitz

  My mother never forgave my father

  for killing himself,

  especially at such an awkward time

  and in a public park,

  that spring

  when I was waiting to be born.

  She locked his name

  in her deepest cabinet

  and would not let him out,

  though I could hear him thumping.

  When I came down from the attic

  with the pastel portrait in my hand

  of a long-lipped stranger

  with a brave moustache

  and deep brown level eyes,

  she ripped it into shreds

  without a single word

  and slapped me hard.

  In my sixty-fourth year

  I can feel my cheek

  still burning.

  优美的经典英文诗歌篇2

  The Orchid Flower

  by Sam Hamill

  Just as I wonder

  whether it's going to die,

  the orchid blossoms

  and I can't explain why it

  moves my heart, why such pleasure

  comes from one small bud

  on a long spindly stem, one

  blood red gold flower

  opening at mid-summer,

  tiny, perfect in its hour.

  Even to a white-

  haired craggy poet, it's

  purely erotic,

  pistil and stamen, pollen,

  dew of the world, a spoonful

  of earth, and water.

  Erotic because there's death

  at the heart of birth,

  drama in those old sunrise

  prisms in wet cedar boughs,

  deepest mystery

  in washing evening dishes

  or teasing my wife,

  who grows, yes, more beautiful

  because one of us will die.

  优美的经典英文诗歌篇3

  Canon 501

  by Brian Swann

  The song was moist, filing away,

  drifting while we drifted, something

  in blackface, Al Jolson of birdland,

  not quite right, prophesizing until hoarse

  who knows what. The locals say he

  draws poison from you, angatkuk,

  shaman, though they don't believe it.

  Then the incongruous smell of

  chrysanthemum crossed us up and

  we remembered the service-station

  with someone in handcuffs. Probably

  a mistake, said the attendant, though

  they do get violent. The prisoner yawned.

  Our map lumbered from point to point

  as if trying to remember something itself,

  anything. We tossed it and got out.

  On the long walk back the tundra looked cozier

  by moonlight, everywhere the same,

  white as bleached whalebone. But

  things had not been right all day.

  In the damp heat everything was wobbly,

  even the bride at the old mission who

  seemed to grow clouds like companions,

  drawing them after. I glimpsed a ring

  of seal-fur flash on her wrist. Mm-hmm,

  unh-hunh they went. The honeymoon

  was spent beyond the rigs. It was enough

  for them it didn't rain or snow though

  the driftwood fire they made beside the boats

  was all smoke. The sea sounded obscure

  as if it had no shape and was empty.

  We tried to capture it on Canon 501

  and sent it south, but even that seemed staged.

  优美的经典英文诗歌篇4

  Carentan O Carentan

  by Louis Simpson

  Trees in the old days used to stand

  And shape a shady lane

  Where lovers wandered hand in hand

  Who came from Carentan.

  This was the shining green canal

  Where we came two by two

  Walking at combat-interval.

  Such trees we never knew.

  The day was early June, the ground

  Was soft and bright with dew.

  Far away the guns did sound,

  But here the sky was blue.

  The sky was blue, but there a smoke

  Hung still above the sea

  Where the ships together spoke

  To towns we could not see.

  Could you have seen us through a glass

  You would have said a walk

  Of farmers out to turn the grass,

  Each with his own hay-fork.

  The watchers in their leopard suits

  Waited till it was time,

  And aimed between the belt and boot

  And let the barrel climb.

  I must lie down at once, there is

  A hammer at my knee.

  And call it death or cowardice,

  Don't count again on me.

  Everything's all right, Mother,

  Everyone gets the same

  At one time or another.

  It's all in the game.

  I never strolled, nor ever shall,

  Down such a leafy lane.

  I never drank in a canal,

  Nor ever shall again.

  There is a whistling in the leaves

  And it is not the wind,

  The twigs are falling from the knives

  That cut men to the ground.

  Tell me, Master-Sergeant,

  The way to turn and shoot.

  But the Sergeant's silent

  That taught me how to do it.

  O Captain, show us quickly

  Our place upon the map.

  But the Captain's sickly

  And taking a long nap.

  Lieutenant, what's my duty,

  My place in the platoon?

  He too's a sleeping beauty,

  Charmed by that strange tune.

  Carentan O Carentan

  Before we met with you

  We never yet had lost a man

  Or known what death could do.

  
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