经典英文诗词

英语诗歌因其节奏、思想意义及艺术价值,在英语教学中占有一席之地。我整理了有关经典的英文诗句，欢迎阅读!

Survivor

by Vijay Seshadri

We hold it against you that you survived.

People better than you are dead，

but you still punch the clock.

Your body has wizened but has not bled

its substance out on the killing floor

or flatlined in intensive care

or vanished after school

or stepped off the ledge in despair.

Of all those you started with，

only you are still around;

only you have not been listed with

the defeated and the drowned.

So how could you ever win our respect?——

you， who had the sense to duck，

you， with your strength almost intact

and all your good luck.

Syrinx

by Amy Clampitt

Like the foghorn that's all lung，

the wind chime that's all percussion，

like the wind itself， that's merely air

in a terrible fret， without so much

as a finger to articulate

what ails it， the aeolian

syrinx， that reed

in the throat of a bird，

when it comes to the shaping of

what we call consonants， is

too imprecise for consensus

about what it even seems to

be saying： is it o-ka-lee

or con-ka-ree， is it really jug jug，

is it cuckoo for that matter?——

much less whether a bird's call

means anything in

particular， or at all.

Syntax comes last， there can be

no doubt of it： came last，

can be thought of (is

thought of by some) as a

higher form of expression：

is， in extremity， first to

be jettisoned： as the diva

onstage， all soaring

pectoral breathwork，

takes off， pure vowel

breaking free of the dry，

the merely fricative

husk of the particular， rises

past saying anything， any

more than the wind in

the trees， waves breaking，

or Homer's gibbering

Thespesiae iache：

those last-chance vestiges

above the threshold， the all-

but dispossessed of breath.

Sweat

by Sandra Alcosser

Friday night I entered a dark corridor

rode to the upper floors with men who filled

the stainless elevator with their smell.

Did you ever make a crystal garden， pour salt

into water， keep pouring until nothing more dissolved?

A landscape will bloom in that saturation.

My daddy's body shop floats to the surface

like a submarine. Men with nibblers and tin snips

buffing skins， sanding curves under clamp lights.

I grew up curled in the window of a 300 SL

Gullwing， while men glided on their backs

through oily rainbows below me.

They torqued lugnuts， flipped fag ends

into gravel. Our torch song

had one refrain——oh the pain of loving you.

Friday nights they'd line the shop sink， naked

to the waist， scour down with Ajax， spray water

across their necks and up into their armpits.

Babies have been conceived on sweat alone——

the buttery scent of a woman's breast，

the cumin of a man. From the briny odor

of black lunch boxes——cold cuts， pickles，

waxed paper——my girl flesh grows.

From the raunchy fume of strangers.

Queen Maeve

by Eloise Bruce

Dreaming within these walls all night，

we woke with both eyes open，

barely winking at the morning light.

We shower and sing with the long-legged fly.

Queen Maeve keeps time in the attic，

and the pig-keepers roar in the toy box below stairs.

Turn out the lamp whose fringe rhymes with orange.

Our words wait in sun-melted butter.

We'll eat our troubles with bubbling metaphor，

punctuate the teapot with boiling time，

hang the wash out on the line.

Today， we'll scrub and paint the walls

using colors we don't yet recognize.

The key in the door shines.

Come in. The poem is just here. Come inside.

Question

by May Swenson

Body my house

my horse my hound

what will I do

when you are fallen

Where will I sleep

How will I ride

What will I hunt

Where can I go

without my mount

all eager and quick

How will I know

in thicket ahead

is danger or treasure

when Body my good

bright dog is dead

How will it be

to lie in the sky

without roof or door

and wind for an eye

With cloud for shift

how will I hide?

诗歌朗读、学习诗歌、并进行诗歌创作和翻译过程中都是一种美的感受,能够让学生体会其特有的韵律美,尽情发挥想象,驰骋在诗歌的海洋中。我整理了优美经典的英文诗句，欢迎阅读!

Nothing Stays Put

by Amy Clampitt

In memory of Father Flye， 1884-1985

The strange and wonderful are too much with us.

The protea of the antipodes——a great，

globed， blazing honeybee of a bloom——

for sale in the supermarket! We are in

our decadence， we are not entitled.

What have we done to deserve

all the produce of the tropics——

this fiery trove， the largesse of it

heaped up like cannonballs， these pineapples， bossed

and crested， standing like troops at attention，

these tiers， these balconies of green， festoons

grown sumptuous with stoop labor?

The exotic is everywhere， it comes to us

before there is a yen or a need for it. The green-

grocers， uptown and down， are from South Korea.

Orchids， opulence by the pailful， just slightly

fatigued by the plane trip from Hawaii， are

disposed on the sidewalks; alstroemerias， freesias

fattened a bit in translation from overseas; gladioli

likewise estranged from their piercing ancestral crimson;

as well as， less altered from the original blue cornflower

of the roadsides and railway embankments of Europe， these

bachelor's buttons. But it isn't the railway embankments

their featherweight wheels of cobalt remind me of， it's

a row of them among prim colonnades of cosmos，

snapdragon， nasturtium， bloodsilk red poppies，

in my grandmother's garden： a prairie childhood，

the grassland shorn， overlaid with a grid，

unsealed， furrowed， harrowed and sown with immigrant grasses，

their massive corduroy， their wavering feltings embroidered

here and there by the scarlet shoulder patch of cannas

on a courthouse lawn， by a love knot， a cross stitch

of living matter， sown and tended by women，

nurturers everywhere of the strange and wonderful，

beneath whose hands what had been alien begins，

as it alters， to grow as though it were indigenous.

But at this remove what I think of as

strange and wonderful， strolling the side streets of Manhattan

on an April afternoon， seeing hybrid pear trees in blossom，

a tossing， vertiginous colonnade of foam， up above——

is the white petalfall， the warm snowdrift

of the indigenous wild plum of my childhood.

Nothing stays put. The world is a wheel.

All that we know， that we're

made of， is motion

Outside

by Michael Ryan

The dead thing mashed into the street

the crows are squabbling over isn't

her， nor are their raucous squawks

the quiet cawing from her throat

those final hours she couldn't speak.

But the racket irks him.

It seems a cruel intrusion into grief

so mute it will never be expressed

no matter how loud or long the wailing

he might do. Nor could there be a word

that won't debase it， no matter

how kind or who it comes from.

She knew how much he loved her.

That must be his consolation

when he must talk to buy necessities.

Every place will be a place without her.

What people will see when they see him

pushing a shopping cart or fetching mail

is just a neatly dressed polite old man

Outside Abilene

by Harley Elliott

the full rage of kansas turns loose upon us.

On the mexican radio station

they are singing Espiritu de mis suenos

and that is exactly it tonight.

The spirit of my dreams

rises in the storm like vapor.

Deep clouds bulge together and below them

we are a tiny constellation of lights

the car laid under sheets of lightning

moving straight in to the night.

Before us are miles and miles of water and wind

Outskirts

by Tomas Transtromer (Translated by Robert Bly)

Men in overalls the same color as earth rise from a ditch.

It's a transitional place， in stalemate， neither country nor city.

Construction cranes on the horizon want to take the big leap，

but the clocks are against it.

Concrete piping scattered around laps at the light with cold tongues.

Auto-body shops occupy old barns.

Stones throw shadows as sharp as objects on the moon surface.

And these sites keep on getting bigger

like the land bought with Judas' silver： "a potter's field for burying strangers."

Ox Cart Manby Donald Hall

In October of the year，

he counts potatoes dug from the brown field，

counting the seed， counting

the cellar's portion out，

and bags the rest on the cart's floor.

He packs wool sheared in April， honey

in combs， linen， leather

tanned from deerhide，

and vinegar in a barrel

hoped by hand at the forge's fire.

He walks by his ox's head， ten days

to Portsmouth Market， and sells potatoes，

and the bag that carried potatoes，

flaxseed， birch brooms， maple sugar， goose

feathers， yarn.

When the cart is empty he sells the cart.

When the cart is sold he sells the ox，

harness and yoke， and walks

home， his pockets heavy

with the year's coin for salt and taxes，

and at home by fire's light in November cold

stitches new harness

for next year's ox in the barn，

and carves the yoke， and saws planks

building the cart again

将英语诗歌引入英语课堂教学,对于提高教学效率与教学质量具有十分重要的意义,同时也有利于提高学生的综合素质。我精心收集了最经典优美的英文诗歌，供大家欣赏学习!

Death Be Not Proud

死神，你莫骄傲

by John Donne

约翰.多恩

Death be not proud, though some have called thee

死神，你莫骄傲，尽管有人说你

Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so,

如何强大，如何可怕，你并不是这样;

For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,

你以为你把谁谁谁****了，其实，

Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me;

可怜的死神，他们没死;你现在也还杀不死我。

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

休息、睡眠，这些不过是你的写照，

Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,

既能给人享受，那你本人提供的一定更多;

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

我们最美好的人随你去得越早，

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

越能早日获得身体的休息，灵魂的解脱。

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

你是命运、机会、君主、亡命徒的奴隶，

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

你和毒药、战争、疾病同住在一起，

And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,

罂粟和咒符和你的打击相比，同样，

And better than thy stroak; why swell'st thou then?

甚至更能催我入睡;那你何必趾高气扬呢?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally,

睡了一小觉之后，我们便永远觉醒了，

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

再也不会有死亡，你死神也将死去。

日出 The Sun Rising

BUSY old fool, unruly Sun,

忙碌的老傻瓜，任性的太阳，

Why dost thou thus,

为什么你要穿过窗棂，

Through windows, and through curtains, call on us ?

透过窗帘前来招呼我们?

Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run ?

难道情人的季节也得有你一样的转向?

Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide

莽撞迂腐的东西，你去斥骂

Late school-boys and sour prentices,

上学迟到的孩童，怨尤的学徒，

Go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,

去通知宫廷的猎人，国王要起驾，

Call country ants to harvest offices ;

吩咐乡下的蚂蚁完成收割人的劳作;

Love, all alike, no season knows nor clime,

爱情呀，始终如一，不使节气的变换，

Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.

更不懂钟点、日子和月份这些时间的碎片。

Thy beams so reverend, and strong

为什么你竟然会自认

Why shouldst thou think ?

你的光线如此可畏和强壮?

I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,

我只须一眨跟，你便会黯然无光，

But that I would not lose her sight so long.

但我不愿她的倩影消失隐遁：

If her eyes have not blinded thine,

倘若她的明眸还没使你目盲，

Look, and to-morrow late tell me,

好好瞧瞧.明天迟些再告诉我，

Whether both th' Indias of spice and mine

盛产金银香料的东西印度

Be where thou left'st them, or lie here with me.

在你今天离开的地方，还是躺在我身旁，

Ask for those kings whom thou saw'st yesterday,

去问一下你昨天看到的所有帝王，

And thou shalt hear, "All here in one bed lay."

那答案准保都将是“全在这一张床上”。

She's all states, and all princes I ;

她便是一切国家，我是君主的君主.

Nothing else is ;

其余的便什么都不是。

Princes do but play us ; compared to this,

君主们不过摹仿着我们;与此相比，

All honour's mimic, all wealth alchemy.

一切荣誉是丑角，一切财富是骗局。

Thou, Sun, art half as happy as we,

你，太阳，只拥有我们一半欢乐，

In that the world's contracted thus ;

当宇宙在这样一个世界里聚拢;

Thine age asks ease, and since thy duties be

你的年龄需要悠闲;既然你的职责

To warm the world, that's done in warming us.

便是温暖世界，你己对我们尽了本份。

Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere ;

你只须照耀我们这儿.光芒就会遍及四方，

This bed thy center is, these walls thy sphere.

这张床是你的中心，墙壁是你的穹苍。

情人之无限 Lovers' Infiniteness

IF yet I have not all thy love,

如果我还不曾得到你的全部的爱，

Dear, I shall never have it all ;

这全部我将永远无法获取;

I cannot breathe one other sigh, to move,

我不能吐出另一声动人的磋叹，

Nor can intreat one other tear to fall ;

也不能让另外一滴眼泪滚落，

And all my treasure, which should purchase thee,

叹息，眼泪，誓辞，一封封情书，

Sighs, tears, and oaths, and letters I have spent ;

这些原应换取你的珍宝已是白费，

Yet no more can be due to me,

而假如你的爱不肯全部付出，

Than at the bargain made was meant.

只是按照交易定下的份额分配，

If then thy gift of love were partial,

既分给我一些，又匀给别人一些，

That some to me, some should to others fall,

你的这份爱的礼物碎损残缺，

Dear, I shall never have thee all.

亲爱的，我永远无法全部获得。

Or if then thou gavest me all,

而你如果把全部的爱赐与了我，

All was but all, which thou hadst then ;

那也不过是从前的全部爱，

But if in thy heart since there be or shall

假如有别的男子向你的芳心潜入，

New love created be by other men,

让你现在或将来产生新的爱，

Which have their stocks entire, and can in tears,

他们的资本齐全，更能在眼泪，叹息

In sighs, in oaths, and letters, outbid me,

誓辞，和情书上满足你的虚荣，

This new love may beget new fears,

那新的爱会导致新的惊悸，

For this love was not vow'd by thee.

因为这种爱背离了你的初衷。

And yet it was, thy gift being general ;

既然如此，你的礼物对众人广施，

The ground, thy heart, is mine ; what ever shall

你的芳心属我，无论这土地上生长什么，

Grow there, dear, I should have it all.

我都应该拥有那全部。

Yet I would not have all yet.

但就此得到全部井非我之所愿，

He that hath all can have no more ;

因为一经获取便不再会增添，

And since my love doth every day admit

既然我的爱每天都有新的进展，

New growth, thou shouldst have new rewards in store ;

你也得为此准备下新的酬谢，

Thou canst not every day give me thy heart,

你不能每天都交给我一颗心，

If thou canst give it, then thou never gavest it ;

倘若说能给出，便意味前此的不是。

Love's riddles are, that though thy heart depart,

爱情真是个谜团，尽管你的已出门，

It stays at home, and thou with losing savest it ;

却依然在家，拣回也就是丢失;

But we will have a way more liberal,

可是我们的办法却更为变通，

Than changing hearts, to join them ; so we shall

无须换心，只要将两颗心儿合拢，

Be one, and one another's all.

便能将对方的全部拥入怀中。