关于唯美英语诗歌精选
关于唯美英语诗歌精选
朗诵是一种传统教学方式,是书面语言的有声化,是语言教学的重点。在教学中教师应注重语音、语气、速度、节奏、语调等技巧的训练,鼓励学生进行朗诵实践,培养学生的朗诵能力。下面是学习啦小编带来的关于唯美英语诗歌，欢迎阅读!
关于唯美英语诗歌篇一
学习啦在线学习网 My Mojave
by Donald Revell
Sha-
Dow，
As of
A meteor
At mid-
Day： it goes
学习啦在线学习网 From there.
A perfect circle falls
Onto white imperfections.
学习啦在线学习网 (Consider the black road，
How it seems white the entire
Length of a sunshine day.)
Or I could say
学习啦在线学习网 Shadows and mirage
Compensate the world，
Completing its changes
学习啦在线学习网 With no change.
学习啦在线学习网 In the morning after a storm，
We used brooms. Out front，
学习啦在线学习网 There was broken glass to collect.
学习啦在线学习网 In the backyard， the sand
Was covered with transparent wings.
学习啦在线学习网 The insects could not use them in the wind
And so abandoned them. Why
Hadn't the wings scattered? Why
Did they lie so stilly where they'd dropped?
学习啦在线学习网 It can only be the wind passed through them.
学习啦在线学习网 Jealous lover，
学习啦在线学习网 Your desire
Passes the same way.
学习啦在线学习网 And jealous earth，
学习啦在线学习网 There is a shadow you cannot keep
To yourself alone.
At midday，
学习啦在线学习网 My soul wants only to go
The black road which is the white road.
I'm not needed
Like wings in a storm，
And God is the storm.
关于唯美英语诗歌篇二
My Mother on an Evening in Late Summer
学习啦在线学习网 by Mark Strand
1
When the moon appears
学习啦在线学习网 and a few wind-stricken barns stand out
in the low-domed hills
and shine with a light
that is veiled and dust-filled
学习啦在线学习网 and that floats upon the fields，
my mother， with her hair in a bun，
her face in shadow， and the smoke
学习啦在线学习网 from her cigarette coiling close
to the faint yellow sheen of her dress，
stands near the house
and watches the seepage of late light
down through the sedges，
the last gray islands of cloud
taken from view， and the wind
ruffling the moon's ash-colored coat
on the black bay.
2
学习啦在线学习网 Soon the house， with its shades drawn closed， will send
small carpets of lampglow
学习啦在线学习网 into the haze and the bay
学习啦在线学习网 will begin its loud heaving
and the pines， frayed finials
学习啦在线学习网 climbing the hill， will seem to graze
学习啦在线学习网 the dim cinders of heaven.
And my mother will stare into the starlanes，
the endless tunnels of nothing，
学习啦在线学习网 and as she gazes，
学习啦在线学习网 under the hour's spell，
she will think how we yield each night
to the soundless storms of decay
学习啦在线学习网 that tear at the folding flesh，
and she will not know
why she is here
or what she is prisoner of
学习啦在线学习网 if not the conditions of love that brought her to this.
3
My mother will go indoors
学习啦在线学习网 and the fields， the bare stones
学习啦在线学习网 will drift in peace， small creatures ——
the mouse and the swift —— will sleep
at opposite ends of the house.
Only the cricket will be up，
repeating its one shrill note
学习啦在线学习网 to the rotten boards of the porch，
to the rusted screens， to the air， to the rimless dark，
学习啦在线学习网 to the sea that keeps to itself.
Why should my mother awake?
学习啦在线学习网 The earth is not yet a garden
学习啦在线学习网 about to be turned. The stars
are not yet bells that ring
学习啦在线学习网 at night for the lost.
It is much too late.
关于唯美英语诗歌篇三
La Coursierde Jeanne
学习啦在线学习网 by Linda McCarriston
You know that they burned her horse
学习啦在线学习网 before her. Though it is not recorded，
学习啦在线学习网 you know that they burned her Percheron
first， before her eyes， because you
know that story， so old that story，
the routine story， carried to its
学习啦在线学习网 extreme， of the cruelty that can make
of what a woman hears a silence，
学习啦在线学习网 that can make of what a woman sees
a lie. She had no son for them to burn，
学习啦在线学习网 for them to take from her in the world
not of her making and put to its pyre，
so they layered a greater one in front of
where she was staked to her own——
as you have seen her pictured sometimes，
学习啦在线学习网 her eyes raised to the sky. But they were
not raised. This is yet one of their lies.
They were not closed. Though her hands
学习啦在线学习网 were bound behind her， and her feet were
学习啦在线学习网 bound deep in what would become fire，
学习啦在线学习网 she watched. Of greenwood stakes
head-high and thicker than a man's waist
they laced the narrow corral that would not
burn until flesh had burned， until
bone was burning， and laid it thick
with tinder——fatted wicks and sulphur，
学习啦在线学习网 kindling and logs——and ran a ramp
up to its height from where the gray horse
waited， his dapples making of his flesh
a living metal， layers of life
through which the light shone out
in places as it seems to through the flesh
of certain fish， a light she knew
学习啦在线学习网 as purest， coming， like that， from within.
学习啦在线学习网 Not flinching， not praying， she looked
the last time on the body she knew
学习啦在线学习网 better than the flesh of any man， or child，
学习啦在线学习网 or woman， having long since left the lap
of her mother——the chest with its
perfect plates of muscle， the neck
with its perfect， prow-like curve，
the hindquarters'——pistons——powerful cleft
学习啦在线学习网 pennoned with the silk of his tail.
Having ridden as they did together
——those places， that hard， that long——
学习啦在线学习网 their eyes found easiest that day
the way to each other， their bodies
wedded in a sacrament unmediated
学习啦在线学习网 by man. With fire they drove him
学习啦在线学习网 up the ramp and off into the pyre
and tossed the flame in with him.
This was the last chance they gave her
学习啦在线学习网 to recant her world， in which their power
came not from God. Unmoved， the Men
of God began watching him burn， and better，
学习啦在线学习网 watching her watch him burn， hearing
学习啦在线学习网 the long mad godlike trumpet of his terror，
his crashing in the wood， the groan
学习啦在线学习网 of stakes that held， the silverblack hide，
学习啦在线学习网 the pricked ears catching first
学习啦在线学习网 like driest bark， and the eyes.
and she knew， by this agony， that she
might choose to live still， if she would
but make her sign on the parchment
学习啦在线学习网 they would lay before her， which now
would include this new truth： that it
学习啦在线学习网 did not happen， this death in the circle，
学习啦在线学习网 the rearing， plunging， raging， the splendid
armour-colored head raised one last time
学习啦在线学习网 above the flames before they took him
——like any game untended on the spit——into
their yellow-green， their blackening red.
关于唯美英语诗歌篇四
My Mother Would Bea Falconress
My mother would be a falconress，
And I， her gay falcon treading her wrist，
would fly to bring back
学习啦在线学习网 from the blue of the sky to her， bleeding， a prize，
学习啦在线学习网 where I dream in my little hood with many bells
jangling when I'd turn my head.
学习啦在线学习网 My mother would be a falconress，
and she sends me as far as her will goes.
She lets me ride to the end of her curb
学习啦在线学习网 where I fall back in anguish.
I dread that she will cast me away，
学习啦在线学习网 for I fall， I mis-take， I fail in her mission.
学习啦在线学习网 She would bring down the little birds.
学习啦在线学习网 And I would bring down the little birds.
When will she let me bring down the little birds，
pierced from their flight with their necks broken，
their heads like flowers limp from the stem?
I tread my mother's wrist and would draw blood.
Behind the little hood my eyes are hooded.
I have gone back into my hooded silence，
talking to myself and dropping off to sleep.
学习啦在线学习网 For she has muffled my dreams in the hood she has made me，
学习啦在线学习网 sewn round with bells， jangling when I move.
She rides with her little falcon upon her wrist.
She uses a barb that brings me to cower.
She sends me abroad to try my wings
and I come back to her. I would bring down
学习啦在线学习网 the little birds to her
I may not tear into， I must bring back perfectly.
I tear at her wrist with my beak to draw blood，
学习啦在线学习网 and her eye holds me， anguisht， terrifying.
学习啦在线学习网 She draws a limit to my flight.
Never beyond my sight， she says.
She trains me to fetch and to limit myself in fetching.
She rewards me with meat for my dinner.
But I must never eat what she sends me to bring her.
学习啦在线学习网 Yet it would have been beautiful， if she would have carried me，
always， in a little hood with the bells ringing，
学习啦在线学习网 at her wrist， and her riding
to the great falcon hunt， and me
flying up to the curb of my heart from her heart
学习啦在线学习网 to bring down the skylark from the blue to her feet，
straining， and then released for the flight.
学习啦在线学习网 My mother would be a falconress，
学习啦在线学习网 and I her gerfalcon raised at her will，
from her wrist sent flying， as if I were her own
pride， as if her pride
knew no limits， as if her mind
学习啦在线学习网 sought in me flight beyond the horizon.
Ah， but high， high in the air I flew.
And far， far beyond the curb of her will，
were the blue hills where the falcons nest.
学习啦在线学习网 And then I saw west to the dying sun——
it seemd my human soul went down in flames.
学习啦在线学习网 I tore at her wrist， at the hold she had for me，
until the blood ran hot and I heard her cry out，
学习啦在线学习网 far， far beyond the curb of her will
学习啦在线学习网 to horizons of stars beyond the ringing hills of the world where
the falcons nest
I saw， and I tore at her wrist with my savage beak.
学习啦在线学习网 I flew， as if sight flew from the anguish in her eye beyond her sight，
学习啦在线学习网 sent from my striking loose， from the cruel strike at her wrist，
striking out from the blood to be free of her.
My mother would be a falconress，
and even now， years after this，
学习啦在线学习网 when the wounds I left her had surely heald，
学习啦在线学习网 and the woman is dead，
her fierce eyes closed， and if her heart
were broken， it is stilld
学习啦在线学习网 I would be a falcon and go free.
I tread her wrist and wear the hood，
学习啦在线学习网 talking to myself， and would draw blood.
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