晨读经典英文诗歌澳门新葡新京

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晨读经典英文诗歌澳门新葡新京

诗歌是一种主情的文学体裁,它以抒情方式高度凝练集中地反映社会生活,用丰富的想象,富有节奏感韵律美的语言和分行排列的形式来抒发思想情感。它是世界上古老基本的文学形式,是语言艺术高的表现形式。下面是学习啦小编为大家带来晨读经典英文诗歌,希望大家喜欢!

晨读经典英文诗歌:The Road to Avignon

A Minstrel stands on a marble stair,

澳门新葡新京,Blown by the bright wind, debonair;

Below lies the sea, a sapphire floor,

Above on the terrace a turret door

Frames a lady, listless and wan,

But fair for the eye to rest upon.

The minstrel plucks at his silver strings,

And looking up to the lady, sings: --

Down the road to Avignon,

The long, long road to Avignon,

Across the bridge to Avignon,

One morning in the spring.

The octagon tower casts a shade

Cool and gray like a cutlass blade;

In sun-baked vines the cicalas spin,

The little green lizards run out and in.

A sail dips over the ocean's rim,

And bubbles rise to the fountain's brim.

The minstrel touches his silver strings,

And gazing up to the lady, sings: --

Down the road to Avignon,

The long, long road to Avignon,

Across the bridge to Avignon,

One morning in the spring.

Slowly she walks to the balustrade,

Idly notes how the blossoms fade

In the sun's caress; then crosses where

The shadow shelters a carven chair.

Within its curve, supine she lies,

And wearily closes her tired eyes.

The minstrel beseeches his silver strings,

And holding the lady spellbound, sings: --

Down the road to Avignon,

The long, long road to Avignon,

Across the bridge to Avignon,

One morning in the spring.

Clouds sail over the distant trees,

Petals are shaken down by the breeze,

They fall on the terrace tiles like snow;

The sighing of waves sounds, far below.

A humming-bird kisses the lips of a rose

Then laden with honey and love he goes.

The minstrel woos with his silver strings,

And climbing up to the lady, sings: --

Down the road to Avignon,

The long, long road to Avignon,

Across the bridge to Avignon,

One morning in the spring.

Step by step, and he comes to her,

Fearful lest she suddenly stir.

Sunshine and silence, and each to each,

The lute and his singing their only speech;

He leans above her, her eyes unclose,

The humming-bird enters another rose.

The minstrel hushes his silver strings.

Hark! The beating of humming-birds' wings!

Down the road to Avignon,

The long, long road to Avignon,

Across the bridge to Avignon,

One morning in the spring.

晨读经典英文诗歌: A Fairy Tale

On winter nights beside the nursery fire

We read the fairy tale, while glowing coals

Builded its pictures. There before our eyes

We saw the vaulted hall of traceried stone

Uprear itself, the distant ceiling hung

With pendent stalactites like frozen vines;

And all along the walls at intervals,

Curled upwards into pillars, roses climbed,

And ramped and were confined, and clustered leaves

Divided where there peered a laughing face.

The foliage seemed to rustle in the wind,

A silent murmur, carved in still, gray stone.

High pointed windows pierced the southern wall

Whence proud escutcheons flung prismatic fires

To stain the tessellated marble floor

With pools of red, and quivering green, and blue;

And in the shade beyond the further door,

Its sober squares of black and white were hid

Beneath a restless, shuffling, wide-eyed mob

Of lackeys and retainers come to view

The Christening.

A sudden blare of trumpets, and the throng

About the entrance parted as the guests

Filed singly in with rare and precious gifts.

Our eager fancies noted all they brought,

The glorious, unattainable delights!

But always there was one unbidden guest

Who cursed the child and left it bitterness.

The fire falls asunder, all is changed,

I am no more a child, and what I see

Is not a fairy tale, but life, my life.

The gifts are there, the many pleasant things:

Health, wealth, long-settled friendships, with a name

Which honors all who bear it, and the power

Of making words obedient. This is much;

But overshadowing all is still the curse,

That never shall I be fulfilled by love!

Along the parching highroad of the world

No other soul shall bear mine company.

Always shall I be teased with semblances,

With cruel impostures, which I trust awhile

Then dash to pieces, as a careless boy

Flings a kaleidoscope, which shattering

Strews all the ground about with coloured sherds.

So I behold my visions on the ground

No longer radiant, an ignoble heap

Of broken, dusty glass. And so, unlit,

Even by hope or faith, my dragging steps

Force me forever through the passing days.

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