關於好背的英文詩精選

　　詩歌是一個國家語言的濃縮 ,它以最凝鍊的文字傳遞了時間與空間、物質與精神、理智與情感 ,其中的文化因素是理解和欣賞詩歌的關鍵。小編精心收集了關於好背的英文詩，供大家欣賞學習!

　　關於好背的英文詩篇1

　　Concord Hymn

　　by Ralph Waldo Emerson

　　By the rude bridge that arched the flood，

　　Their flag to April's breeze unfurled，

　　Here once the embattled farmers stood，

　　And fired the shot heard round the world.

　　The foe long since in silence slept;

　　Alike the conqueror silent sleeps;

　　And Time the ruined bridge has swept

　　Down the dark stream which seaward creeps.

　　On this green bank， by this soft stream，

　　We set to-day a votive stone;

　　That memory may their deed redeem，

　　When， like our sires， our sons are gone.

　　Spirit， that made those heroes dare

　　To die， and leave their children free，

　　Bid Time and Nature gently spare

　　The shaft we raise to them and thee.

　　關於好背的英文詩篇2

　　Company of Moths

　　by Michael Palmer

　　We thought it could all be found in The Book of Poor Text，

　　the shadow the boat casts， angled mast， fretted wake， indigo eye.

　　Windows of the blind text，

　　keening， parabolic nights.

　　And the rolling sun， sun tumbling

　　into then under， company of moths.

　　Can you hear what I'm thinking， from there， even as you sleep?

　　Streets of the Poor Text， where a child's gaze falls

　　on the corpse of a horse beside a cart，

　　whimpering dog， woman's mute mouth agape

　　as if to say， We must move on，

　　we must not stop， we must not watch.

　　For after all， do the dead watch us?

　　To memorize precisely the tint of a plum，

　　curve of a body at rest ***sun again***，

　　the words to each popular song，

　　surely that would be enough.

　　For are you not familiar with these crows by the shore?

　　Did you not call them sea crows once?

　　Did we not discuss the meaning of "as the crow flies"

　　one day in that square - station of exile - under the reddest

　　of suns? And then， almost as one， we said， It's time.

　　And a plate shattered， a spoon fell to the floor，

　　towels in a heap by the door.

　　Drifts of cloud over

　　steeples from the west.

　　Faith in the Poor Text.

　　Outline of stuff left behind.

　　關於好背的英文詩篇3

　　The Suitor

　　by Jane Kenyon

　　We lie back to back.

　　Curtains lift and fall，

　　like the chest of someone sleeping.

　　Wind moves the leaves of the box elder;

　　they show their light undersides，

　　turning all at once

　　like a school of fish.

　　Suddenly I understand that I am happy.

　　For months this feeling

　　has been coming closer，

　　stopping for short visits，

　　like a timid suitor.

　　關於好背的英文詩篇4

　　The Sun Underfoot Among the Sundews

　　by Amy Clampitt

　　An ingenuity too astonishing

　　to be quite fortuitous is

　　this bog full of sundews，

　　sphagnum-lines and shaped like a teacup.

　　A step down and you're into it;

　　a wilderness swallows you up：

　　ankle-， then knee-， then midriff-

　　to-shoulder-deep in wetfooted understory，

　　an overhead spruce-tamarack horizon hinting

　　you'll never get out of here.

　　But the sun among the sundews， down there，

　　is so bright， an underfoot

　　webwork of carnivorous rubies，

　　a star-swarm thick as the gnats

　　they're set to catch， delectable

　　double-faced cockleburs， each

　　hair-tip a sticky mirror

　　afire with sunlight， a million

　　of them and again a million，

　　each mirror a trap set to

　　unhand believing，

　　that either a First Cause said once，

　　"Let there be sundews，" and there were，

　　or they've made their way here unaided

　　other than by that backhand， round-

　　about refusal to assume responsibility

　　known as Natural Selection.

　　But the sun underfoot is so dazzling

　　down there among the sundews，

　　there is so much light

　　in that cup that， looking，

　　you start to fall upward.

　　關於好背的英文詩篇5

　　The Taxiby Amy Lowell

　　When I go away from you

　　The world beats dead

　　Like a slackened drum.

　　I call out for you against the jutted stars

　　And shout into the ridges of the wind.

　　Streets coming fast，

　　One after the other，

　　Wedge you away from me，

　　And the lamps of the city prick my eyes

　　So that I can no longer see your face.

　　Why should I leave you，

　　To wound myself upon the sharp edges of the night?