关于英文诗歌朗诵精选
诗歌本身包含的丰富社会生活内容和艺术内涵,诗歌语言的独特的美与和谐都使它们具有无穷的魅力,所以凡学习英语文学的人都会情不自禁要对英语诗歌倾注特别的热情和关注。小编精心收集了关于英文诗歌，供大家欣赏学习!
关于英文诗歌篇1
Olympia
by Henri Cole
Tired， hungry， hot， I climbed the steep slope
to town， a sultry， watery place， crawling with insects and birds.
In the semidarkness of the mountain，
small things loomed large： a donkey urinating on a palm;
a salt-and-saliva-stained boy riding on his mother's back;
a shy roaming black Adam. I was walking on an edge.
The moments fused into one crystalline rock，
like ice in a champagne bucket. Time was plunging forward，
like dolphins scissoring open water or like me，
following Jenny's flippers down to see the coral reef，
where the color of sand， sea and sky merged，
and it was as if that was all God wanted：
not a wife， a house or a position，
but a self， like a needle， pushing in a vein.
关于英文诗歌篇2
Old English riddle
by Anonymous
My dress is silent when I tread the ground
Or stay at home or stir upon the waters.
Sometimes my trappings and the lofty air
Raise me above the dwelling-place of men，
And then the power of clouds carries me far
Above the people; and my ornaments
Loudly resound， send forth a melody
And clearly sing， when I am not in touch
With earth or water， but a flying spirit.
关于英文诗歌篇3
Porch Swing in September
by Ted Kooser
The porch swing hangs fixed in a morning sun
that bleaches its gray slats， its flowered cushion
whose flowers have faded， like those of summer，
and a small brown spider has hung out her web
on a line between porch post and chain
so that no one may swing without breaking it.
She is saying it‘s time that the swinging were done with，
time that the creaking and pinging and popping
that sang through the ceiling were past，
time now for the soft vibrations of moths，
the wasp tapping each board for an entrance，
the cool dewdrops to brush from her work
every morning， one world at a time
关于英文诗歌篇4
Portrait in Georgia
by Jean Toomer
Hair——braided chestnut，
coiled like a lyncher's rope，
Eyes——fagots，
Lips——old scars， or the first red blisters，
Breath——the last sweet scent of cane，
And her slim body， white as the ash of black flesh after flame.
关于英文诗歌篇5
On 52nd Street
by Philip Levine
Down sat Bud， raised his hands，
the Deuces silenced， the lights
lowered， and breath gathered
for the coming storm. Then nothing，
not a single note. Outside starlight
from heaven fell unseen， a quarter-moon，
promised， was no show，
ditto the rain. Late August of '50，
NYC， the long summer of abundance
and our new war. In the mirror behind
the bar， the spirits imitating you
stared at themselves. At the bar
the tenor player up from Philly， shut
his eyes and whispered to no one，
"Same thing last night." Everyone
been coming all week long
to hear this. The big brown bass
sighed and slumped against
the piano， the cymbals held
their dry cheeks and stopped
chicking and chucking. You went
back to drinking and ignored
the unignorable. When the door
swung open it was Pettiford
in work clothes， midnight suit，
starched shirt， narrow black tie，
spit shined shoes， as ready
as he'd ever be. Eyebrows
raised， the Irish bartender
shook his head， so Pettiford eased
himself down at an empty table，
closed up his Herald Tribune，
and shook his head. Did the TV
come on， did the jukebox bring us
Dinah Washington， did the stars
keep their appointments， did the moon
show， quartered or full， sprinkling
its soft light down? The night's
still there， just where it was， just
where it'll always be without
its music. You're still there too
holding your breath. Bud walked out.