关于优美的英文诗朗诵
英语诗歌是一个包含丰富社会生活内容、语言艺术和文化内涵的世界,是基础英语教学的一块很有潜力的教学资源。小编整理了关于优美的英文诗，欢迎阅读!
关于优美的英文诗篇一
Oblivion Speaks
by Sarah Manguso
I am not here to ruin you.
I am already in you.
I am the work you don‘t do.
I am what you understand best and wordless.
I am with you in your chair and in your song.
I am what you avoid and what you stop avoiding.
I am what‘s left when there is nothing left.
Love me hard， pilgrim.
关于优美的英文诗篇二
O'Connor at Andalusia
by Floyd Skloot
It came with the steady pace of dusk，
slow shadings in the distance， a sense of light
growing soft at the center of her body.
It came like evening to the farm
bearing silence and a promise of rest.
There was nothing to say it was there
till she found herself unable to move
and stillness settled its net over the bed.
A crimson disc of pain suddenly flushed
from her hips like a last flaring of sun.
She believed the time had come
to welcome this perfect weakness
that had no memory of strength，
a mercy even as darkness hardened
inside her joints. It was not to be
missed. Nor was the mercy of sight：
she believed the time had come
to measure every moment and map
the place she soon must leave.
At least she had been given time，
though her wish would have been
an hour more for each leaf visible
from her window， a day for trees，
a week for birds and month to savor
the voice of each friend who called.
Though she never belonged in the heart
of this world， she gave this world her heart.
Within her stillness she remembered
the first signs： that brilliant butterfly
rash on her face， a blink that lasted
for hours， the delicate embrace of sleep
veering as in a dream toward the grip
of death， hunger vanishing like hope.
Her body no longer knew her body as itself
but this too was a mercy. To leave herself
behind and then return was instructive.
To wax and wane， to live beyond
the body and know what that was like，
a gift from God， a mixed blessing shrouded
in the common cloth of loss. Half her life
she practiced death and resurrection.
关于优美的英文诗篇三
Ode on the death of a favorite cat
by Thomas Gray
Twas on a lofty vase's side，
Where China's gayest art had dyed
The azure flowers that blow;
Demurest of the tabby kind，
The pensive Selima， reclined，
Gazed on the lake below.
Her conscious tail her joy declared;
The fair round face， the snowy beard，
The velvet of her paws，
Her coat， that with the tortoise vies，
Her ears of jet， and emerald eyes，
She saw; and purred applause.
Still had she gazed; but 'midst the tide
Two angel forms were seen to glide，
The genii of the stream：
Their scaly armor's Tyrian hue
Through richest purple to the view
Betrayed a golden gleam.
The hapless nymph with wonder saw：
A whisker first and then a claw，
With many an ardent wish，
She stretched in vain to reach the prize.
What female heart can gold despise?
What cat's averse to fish?
Presumptuous maid! with looks intent
Again she stretched， again she bent，
Nor knew the gulf between.
(Malignant Fate sat by and smiled)
The slippery verge her feet beguiled，
She tumbled headlong in.
Eight times emerging from the flood
She mewed to every watery god，
Some speedy aid to send.
No dolphin came， no Nereid stirred;
Nor cruel Tom， nor Susan heard;
A favorite has no friend!
From hence， ye beauties， undeceived，
Know， one false step is ne'er retrieved，
And be with caution bold.
Not all that tempts your wandering eyes
And heedless hearts， is lawful prize;
Nor all that glisters， gold.