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.