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      學(xué)習(xí)啦 > 學(xué)習(xí)英語 > 英語閱讀 > 英語詩歌 > 關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌欣賞

      關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌欣賞

      時間: 韋彥867 分享

      關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌欣賞

        英語詩歌同建筑藝術(shù)一樣,也需要追求外在的視覺藝術(shù)和造型藝術(shù),講究外部的象形、對稱、參差和魅力,所以詩歌語言也具有建筑藝術(shù)美感。詩歌比其他任何文學(xué)樣式更接近建筑藝術(shù),更具有建筑美。小編精心收集了關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌,供大家欣賞學(xué)習(xí)!

        關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌篇1

        On Liberty and Slavery

        by George Moses Horton

        Alas! and am I born for this,

        To wear this slavish chain?

        Deprived of all created bliss,

        Through hardship, toil, and pain!

        How long have I in bondage lain,

        And languished to be free!

        Alas! and must I still complain

        Deprived of liberty.

        Oh, Heaven! and is there no relief

        This side the silent grave

        To soothe the pain to quell the grief

        And anguish of a slave?

        Come, Liberty, thou cheerful sound,

        Roll through my ravished ears!

        Come, let my grief in joys be drowned,

        And drive away my fears.

        Say unto foul oppression, Cease:

        Ye tyrants rage no more,

        And let the joyful trump of peace,

        Now bid the vassal soar.

        Soar on the pinions of that dove

        Which long has cooed for thee,

        And breathed her notes from Afric's grove,

        The sound of Liberty.

        Oh, Liberty! thou golden prize,

        So often sought by blood

        We crave thy sacred sun to rise,

        The gift of nature's God!

        Bid Slavery hide her haggard face,

        And barbarism fly:

        I scorn to see the sad disgrace

        In which enslaved I lie.

        Dear Liberty! upon thy breast,

        I languish to respire;

        And like the Swan upon her nest,

        I'd to thy smiles retire.

        Oh, blest asylum heavenly balm!

        Unto thy boughs I flee

        And in thy shades the storm shall calm,

        With songs of Liberty!

        關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌篇2

        Private Eye Lettuce

        by Richard Brautigan

        Three crates of Private Eye Lettuce,

        the name and drawing of a detective

        with magnifying glass on the sides

        of the crates of lettuce,

        form a great cross in man's imagination

        and his desire to name

        the objects of this world.

        I think I'll call this place Golgotha

        and have some salad for dinner.

        關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌篇3

        psalm

        by Alicia Suskin Ostriker

        I am not lyric any more

        I will not play the harp

        for your pleasure

        I will not make a joyful

        noise to you, neither

        will I lament

        for I know you drink

        lamentation, too,

        like wine

        so I dully repeat

        you hurt me

        I hate you

        I pull my eyes away from the hills

        I will not kill for you

        I will never love you again

        unless you ask me

        關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌篇4

        On Looking for Models

        by Alan Dugan

        The trees in time have something else to do

        besides their treeing. What is it.

        I'm a starving to death man myself,

        and thirsty, thirsty by their fountains but I cannot drink

        their mud and sunlight to be whole.

        I do not understand these presences that drink for months

        in the dirt, eat light,

        and then fast dry in the cold.

        They stand it out somehow,

        and how, the Botanists will tell me.

        It is the "something else" that bothers me,

        so I often go back to the forests.

        關(guān)于世界著名英文詩歌篇5

        On My First Son

        by Ben Jonson

        Farewell, thou child of my right hand, and joy;

        My sin was too much hope of thee, lov'd boy.

        Seven years thou'wert lent to me, and I thee pay,

        Exacted by thy fate, on the just day.

        O, could I lose all father now! For why

        Will man lament the state he should envy?

        To have so soon 'scap'd world's and flesh's rage,

        And, if no other misery, yet age?

        Rest in soft peace, and, ask'd, say here doth lie

        Ben Jonson his best piece of poetry.

        For whose sake, henceforth, all his vows be such,

        As what he loves may never like too much.

        
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