關於經典英語詩歌精選

　　英語詩歌的特點是短小精悍,語言簡練,注重押韻,具有豐富的想象力,是英語文學中的瑰寶。詩歌朗讀、學習詩歌、並進行詩歌創作和翻譯過程中都是一種美的感受,能夠讓學生體會其特有的韻律美,盡情發揮想象,馳騁在詩歌的海洋中。本文是關於經典英語詩歌，希望對大家有幫助!

　　關於經典英語詩歌：Semblance: Screens

　　Liz Waldner

　　A moth lies open and lies

　　like an old bleached beech leaf,

　　a lean-to between window frame and sill.

　　Its death protects a collection of tinier deaths

　　and other dirts beneath.

　　Although the white paint is water-stained,

　　on it death is dirt, and hapless.

　　The just-severed tiger lily

　　is drinking its glass of water, I hope.

　　This hope is sere.

　　This hope is severe.

　　What you ruin ruins you, too

　　and so you hope for favor.

　　I mean I do.

　　The underside of a ladybug

　　wanders the window. I wander

　　the continent, my under-carriage not as evident,

　　so go more perilously, it seems to me.

　　But I am only me; to you it seems clear

　　I mean to disappear, and am mean

　　and project on you my fear.

　　If I were a bug, I hope I wouldn't be

　　this giant winged thing, spindly like a crane fly,

　　skinny-legged like me, kissing the cold ceiling,

　　fumbling for the face of the other, seeking.

　　It came in with me last night when I turned on the light.

　　I lay awake, afraid it would touch my face.

　　It wants out. I want out, too.

　　I thought you a way through.

　　Arms wide for wings,

　　your suffering mine, twinned.

　　Screen. Your unbelief drives me in,

　　doubt for dirt, white sheet for sill --

　　You don't stay other enough or still

　　enough to be likened to.

　　關於經典英語詩歌：Stand by Me

　　David St. John

　　When the solace of angels is named,

　　When the winds blister the academy,

　　When the first lesions of winter light

　　Scrawl their paths across the black sheet

　　Of the bed beneath the skylight,

　　When the algebras of my past repeat

　　Themselves drunkenly on into the night,

　　When the lemon peels twist

　　At the edge of the porcelain saucer,

　　When the door is closed behind me,

　　When the stilettos all stand at attention

　　The moment I step onto the subway,

　　When my future's looking dim,

　　Stand by me

　　no matter

　　The declensions of light along the shore,

　　No matter the new color of my hair,

　　No matter the tattoo I've solicited

　　In a bar fight over nothing,

　　No matter the earrings on the dresser top,

　　No matter the motion of my body against yours

　　Breaking its own rainbow,

　　No matter what,

　　stand by me;

　　If some innocent misanthropy unties me

　　From my new suede shoes,

　　If the many travellers within me all

　　Depart together, or if the one who's most

　　Rude & surly returns to you alone,

　　If every word I've lifted with such effort

　　Hangs in its residue of ash,

　　If there's still some consequence in this,

　　Stand by me;

　　after the music

　　Rasps its way out of my chambered bones,

　　After the shuffle I'm famous for is reduced

　　To nothing but the white tracings

　　Of shoes on a sidewalk,

　　Numbered 1, 2, & 3 ...

　　After the legato which will leave me alone,

　　After the third day of prolonged applause,

　　After the newscasters impress upon me

　　The transitory nature of all earthly fame,

　　After my make-up begins to run like

　　Stigmata in the shadow of the klieg lights,

　　After the night before the night

　　You decide it really isn't

　　Worth it anymore,

　　stand by me;

　　Because the antiphony of my conscience

　　Has become quite enough,

　　Because you remember me believing

　　Whatever it was that I believed,

　　Because it's getting late no matter which

　　Country, heart or clock we consult,

　　Because the outfield is moving in,

　　Because even the women on the Pirelli

　　Calendar are looking grim,

　　Because everyone has to forgive someone,

　　Because I miss you & it matters,

　　Because no one else wears the morning

　　Quite so well, stand by me, please;

　　Stand by me.

　　關於經典英語詩歌：Honeymoon

　　Dorianne Laux

　　We didn't have one, unless you count Paris,

　　20 years later, after we'd almost given up on the idea.

　　We'd imagined one, long nights beneath

　　a warm celestial sky; him growing his beard,

　　me in a silk turquoise robe, floating, billowing,

　　on a deserted beach foraging for whole sand dollars,

　　jelly fish washed up on the shore, their glittering insides

　　visible, still pulsing through flesh made of glass,

　　but it never happened. We had to work through

　　our vacations, refinance the house, find someone

　　to cut down the cedar that threatened to bury us

　　with each storm. We wanted to make up

　　for the wedding, or lack of one, the granite

　　courthouse steps, the small room with a desk,

　　the flimsy document stamped with a cheap gold seal.

　　Even then we meant to have a party on the deck,

　　cheese and crackers, fruit plates, sparkling

　　grape cider in plastic cups, our friends on the lawn

　　calling you the Big Kahuna, me Mrs. Dynamite,

　　me calling you my Sweet Dragon, you calling me

　　your little Red Corvette. Instead, time found a way

　　to demand each minute, until one night,

　　after you'd gotten a small windfall in the mail,

　　you turned to me and said, I'm going to take you to Paris,

　　me in my ratty robe and floppy slippers, you

　　in your flannel pj bottoms and black wife beater,

　　muting the clicker when I said "What?"

　　and saying it again. Then we were there,

　　in our 60s, standing below the dire Eiffel Tower,

　　its 81 stories of staircases we couldn't possibly climb,

　　its 73 thousand tons of puddled iron, you

　　taking my picture for posterity, me

　　kissing you beneath the pathway of arched trees,

　　our voices echoing against the six million skulls

　　embedded inside the stone catacombs, me

　　saying, I guess you weren't kidding, you

　　taking my hand in the rain.