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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)于簡單英文詩歌朗誦

      關(guān)于簡單英文詩歌朗誦

      時間: 韋彥867 分享

      關(guān)于簡單英文詩歌朗誦

        英語詩歌是英語語言與文學(xué)的精華。開展英語詩歌教學(xué)能提高學(xué)生英語語言基礎(chǔ)知識水平、寫作水平,有助于學(xué)生西方歷史文化的學(xué)習(xí),提高學(xué)生的想象力,也有助于對學(xué)生的道德教育。學(xué)習(xí)啦小編整理了關(guān)于簡單英文詩歌,歡迎閱讀!

        關(guān)于簡單英文詩歌篇一

        Song of the Son

        by Jean Toomer

        Pour O pour that parting soul in song,

        O pour it in the sawdust glow of night,

        Into the velvet pine-smoke air to-night,

        And let the valley carry it along.

        And let the valley carry it along.

        O land and soil, red soil and sweet-gum tree,

        So scant of grass, so profligate of pines,

        Now just before an epoch's sun declines

        Thy son, in time, I have returned to thee,

        Thy son, I have in time returned to thee.

        In time, for though the sun is setting on

        A song-lit race of slaves, it has not set;

        Though late, O soil, it is not too late yet

        To catch thy plaintive soul, leaving, soon gone,

        Leaving, to catch thy plaintive soul soon gone.

        O Negro slaves, dark purple ripened plums,

        Squeezed, and bursting in the pine-wood air,

        Passing before they stripped the old tree bare

        One plum was saved for me, one seed becomes

        An everlasting song, a singing tree,

        Caroling softly souls of slavery,

        What they were, and what they are to me,

        Caroling softly souls of slavery.

        關(guān)于簡單英文詩歌篇二

        Song of Myself

        by John Canaday

        I am a stubborn ox dreaming

        of rain as the drover's fingers drum

        around my eyes. But no: the wet

        hum of flies distracted me,

        and now the plow has drifted from

        the line I meant to follow. See

        where the damp leather of the reins

        has worn the callus on my left

        forefinger raw? Or was it the dry,

        ash handle of my hoe? I can hear

        the steel head singing as it strikes

        rocky ground, the fresh-turned earth

        swallowing showers of sparks. The tip

        of my tongue goes dry. I touch my lips

        to the soil as I once touched you, here

        and there. A single knot of dirt

        crumbles slowly in my mouth

        with the taste of sweet butter dripping

        from your thumb. This ground will raise

        a heavy crop. I am the wheat

        that flowed around your waist like water.

        I am that lonely knot of earth.

        關(guān)于簡單英文詩歌篇三

        Song to Celia by Ben Jonson

        Drinke to me, onely, with thine eyes,

        And I will pledge with mine;

        Or leave a kisse but in the cup,

        And Ile not looke for wine.

        The thirst, that from the soule doth rise,

        Doth aske a drinke divine:

        But might I of Jove's Nectar sup,

        I would not change for thine.

        I sent thee, late, a rosie wreath,

        Not so much honoring thee,

        As giving it a hope, that there

        It could not withered bee.

        But thou thereon did'st onely breath,

        And sent'st it back to mee:

        Since when it growes, and smells, I sweare,

        Not of it selfe, but thee.

        關(guān)于簡單英文詩歌篇四

        Songs for the People

        by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

        Let me make the songs for the people,

        Songs for the old and young;

        Songs to stir like a battle-cry

        Wherever they are sung.

        Not for the clashing of sabres,

        For carnage nor for strife;

        But songs to thrill the hearts of men

        With more abundant life.

        Let me make the songs for the weary,

        Amid life's fever and fret,

        Till hearts shall relax their tension,

        And careworn brows forget.

        Let me sing for little children,

        Before their footsteps stray,

        Sweet anthems of love and duty,

        To float o'er life's highway.

        I would sing for the poor and aged,

        When shadows dim their sight;

        Of the bright and restful mansions,

        Where there shall be no night.

        Our world, so worn and weary,

        Needs music, pure and strong,

        To hush the jangle and discords

        Of sorrow, pain, and wrong.

        Music to soothe all its sorrow,

        Till war and crime shall cease;

        And the hearts of men grown tender

        Girdle the world with peace.

        關(guān)于簡單英文詩歌篇五

        Sonnet for Salvadore

        by Gary Miranda

        Of Salvadore the Celery King I sing.

        Illiterate in Lewiston, he'd wander,

        so I'm told, into the ladies' john

        and, barring ladies, not suspect a thing.

        But when it came to celery, he was king.

        And when he died, the Idaho Daily Sun

        said: Salvadore the Celery King Moves On.

        The celery hung its head, remembering.

        Sometimes I think I'll wind down Lewiston Hill

        (where winding up and winding down's the same

        except for purpose), enter past the mill

        and, turning to face the crowd, announce my name:

        "Gary, son of Dom the son of Salvadore

        the King, whose throne I've come to claim."

        
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