關於大學英文詩歌朗誦稿

　　英語詩歌是英美文學中的珍寶。在英美文學中,尤其是早期作品中,如史詩及戲劇都是以詩歌的形式出現。欣賞英語詩歌是英語學習的重要部分。小編精心收集了，供大家欣賞學習!

　　篇1

　　The Ship

　　by William Logan

　　The sunlight burned like wire on the water，

　　that morning the ghost ship drove upriver.

　　The only witness was a Jersey cow.

　　Florid and testy， a miniature industrialist，

　　the steam tug spouted its fiery plume of smoke，

　　and on the bank the dead trout lolled，

　　beyond the reach of the fishermen now.

　　From a distance the fish lay sprawled like sailors

　　after a great sea battle， the masts and spars

　　splintered like matchsticks on the water; the mist

　　hovering over inlets， cannon-smoke drifting

　　off the now-purple， now-green bloom of river.

　　In shadow a train inched across a brick viaduct

　　ruling the still-dark valley，

　　as aqueducts once bullied the dawn campagna.

　　The cows resented the Cincinnatus patriot，

　　knowing they too were bred for slaughter.

　　The morning was a painting： the battered warship

　　hung with dawn lights like a chestful of medals，

　　the barren canvas of the Thames， empty out of respect，

　　the steam tug beetling to the breaker's yard.

　　The sun lay on the horizon like a vegetable.

　　篇2

　　The Shield of Achilles

　　by W. H. Auden

　　She looked over his shoulder

　　For vines and olive trees，

　　Marble well-governed cities

　　And ships upon untamed seas，

　　But there on the shining metal

　　His hands had put instead

　　An artificial wilderness

　　And a sky like lead.

　　A plain without a feature， bare and brown，

　　No blade of grass， no sign of neighborhood，

　　Nothing to eat and nowhere to sit down，

　　Yet， congregated on its blankness， stood

　　An unintelligible multitude，

　　A million eyes， a million boots in line，

　　Without expression， waiting for a sign.

　　Out of the air a voice without a face

　　Proved by statistics that some cause was just

　　In tones as dry and level as the place：

　　No one was cheered and nothing was discussed;

　　Column by column in a cloud of dust

　　They marched away enduring a belief

　　Whose logic brought them， somewhere else， to grief.

　　She looked over his shoulder

　　For ritual pieties，

　　White flower-garlanded heifers，

　　Libation and sacrifice，

　　But there on the shining metal

　　Where the altar should have been，

　　She saw by his flickering forge-light

　　Quite another scene.

　　Barbed wire enclosed an arbitrary spot

　　Where bored officials lounged ***one cracked a joke***

　　And sentries sweated for the day was hot：

　　A crowd of ordinary decent folk

　　Watched from without and neither moved nor spoke

　　As three pale figures were led forth and bound

　　To three posts driven upright in the ground.

　　The mass and majesty of this world， all

　　That carries weight and always weighs the same

　　Lay in the hands of others; they were small

　　And could not hope for help and no help came：

　　What their foes like to do was done， their shame

　　Was all the worst could wish; they lost their pride

　　And died as men before their bodies died.

　　She looked over his shoulder

　　For athletes at their games，

　　Men and women in a dance

　　Moving their sweet limbs

　　Quick， quick， to music，

　　But there on the shining shield

　　His hands had set no dancing-floor

　　But a weed-choked field.

　　A ragged urchin， aimless and alone，

　　Loitered about that vacancy; a bird

　　Flew up to safety from his well-aimed stone：

　　That girls are raped， that two boys knife a third，

　　Were axioms to him， who'd never heard

　　Of any world where promises were kept，

　　Or one could weep because another wept.

　　The thin-lipped armorer，

　　Hephaestos， hobbled away，

　　Thetis of the shining breasts

　　Cried out in dismay

　　At what the god had wrought

　　To please her son， the strong

　　Iron-hearted man-slaying Achilles

　　Who would not live long.

　　篇3

　　The Silence

　　by Philip Schultz

　　You always called late and drunk，

　　your voice luxurious with pain，

　　I， tightly wrapped in dreaming，

　　listening as if to a ghost.

　　Tonight a friend called to say your body

　　was found in your apartment， where

　　it had lain for days. You'd lost your job，

　　stopped writing， saw nobody for weeks.

　　Your heart， he said. Drink had destroyed you.

　　We met in a college town， first teaching jobs，

　　poems flowing from a grief we enshrined

　　with myth and alcohol. I envied the way

　　women looked at you， a bear blunt with rage，

　　tearing through an ever-darkening wood.

　　Once we traded poems like photos of women

　　whose beauty tested God's faith. 'Read this one

　　about how friendship among the young can't last，

　　it will rip your heart out of your chest!'

　　Once you called to say J was leaving，

　　the pain stuck in your throat like a razor blade.

　　A woman was calling me back to bed

　　so I said I'd call back. But I never did.

　　The deep forlorn smell of moss and pine

　　behind your stone house， you strumming

　　and singing Lorca， Vallejo， De Andrade，

　　as if each syllable tasted of blood，

　　as if you had all the time in the world. . .

　　You knew your angels loved you

　　but you also knew they would leave

　　someone they could not save.

　　篇4

　　Cherries in the Snow

　　by Richard Jones

　　My mother never appeared in public

　　without lipstick. If we were going out，

　　I'd have to wait by the door until

　　she painted her lips and turned

　　from the hallway mirror，

　　put on her gloves and picked up her purse，

　　opening the purse to see

　　if she'd remembered tissues.

　　After lunch in a restaurant

　　she might ask，

　　"Do I need lipstick?"

　　If I said yes，

　　she would discretely turn

　　and refresh her faded lips.

　　Opening the black and gold canister，

　　she'd peer in a round compact

　　as if she were looking into another world.

　　Then she'd touch her lips to a tissue.

　　Whenever I went searching

　　in her coat pocket or purse

　　for coins or candy

　　I'd find， crumpled， those small white tissues

　　covered with bloodred kisses.

　　I'd slip them into my pocket，

　　along with the stones and feathers

　　I thought， back then， I'd keep.