關于長篇著名詩歌朗誦

　　英語詩歌是英語語言與文學的精華。開展英語詩歌教學能提高學生英語語言基礎知識水平、寫作水平,有助于學生西方歷史文化的學習,提高學生的想象力,也有助于對學生的道德教育。小編精心收集了關于長篇著名詩歌，供大家欣賞學習!

　　關于長篇著名詩歌：The Liberal Arts

　　Alicia Ostriker

　　In mathematics they say the most beautiful solution is the correct one

　　In physics they say everything that can happen must happen

　　In history they say the more it changes the more it is the same

　　In astrophysics you take the long view

　　In chemistry you explode and blend, it is a bit like freestyle cooking, the

　　Yiddish term would be: you potschke

　　In biology you smell the flowers, the enticing flowers, and you play with mice,

　　and you write grant proposals

　　In jurisprudence they say there is no justice

　　In philosophy they say there is no truth

　　In literary studies they say everybody come along be ironic now

　　Business school we systematize the competitive strategies we learned in the

　　sandbox

　　Engineering moves us firmly into manhood, we grip the material world in our

　　fists

　　Computer science assists us toward the goal of replacing our species with a

　　new, improved, more efficient form of life, based in electronics instead of carbon --

　　many of us

　　are rushing to transform ourselves as quickly as possible

　　Religion is still hot

　　People keep plunging passionately into and out of it at the usual brisk rate

　　Geography suggests the future dominance of North America by Spanish-

　　speaking people

　　but it does not say when; geology looks stony, takes the long view

　　Music bridges mathematics, the soul of the universe, and my personal soul

　　Visual art is the bridge between my bag of body and bones and stuff in the

　　painterly universe

　　Drama crosses this bridge on foot

　　In the novel they say omit nothing, harvest the entire goddamn world

　　In memoir they say the self is silently weeping, give it a tissue

　　In poetry they say the arrow may be blown off course by storm and returned

　　by miracle

　　關于長篇著名詩歌：Road Metal

　　Timothy McBride

　　-- for my grandmother, Margaret Kelly

　　"You don't need that," she'd tell us when we'd beg

　　Two cents for bubblegum or licorice.

　　A bricklayer's daughter, she'd grown up hard

　　As cement -- never reached 100 pounds,

　　Lived on potatoes and tea, cut her own hair.

　　Husband gone, youngest child killed in the street,

　　She carried a ball peen hammer up her sleeve

　　On the daily walks she made us take all over town,

　　Crossing the river and the canal, circling the miles

　　Of Eastman Kodak's smokestacks, through the invisible

　　Hops-scented cloud of the Genesee Brewery,

　　Past the burned-out storefronts of the '67 riots,

　　Never stopping at the church where the brother

　　She wouldn't speak to, a Catholic priest,

　　Celebrated morning mass. We followed her

　　Through drain pipes and alleys. We crawled under a gap

　　She found in the fence beside the KEEP OUT sign

　　And up onto the tracks of the New York Central Line,

　　Startled when she unclasped (this once) her change purse

　　And gave us each three pennies to lay on the polished rail.

　　When the tank cars and ore jennies had passed,

　　We sifted through the ballast rock

　　She said was called "road metal," excited as prospectors

　　For the ruined and unspendable glints of warm copper

　　Lincoln's face flattened to a smudge

　　Our first lesson in what our city's daily freight

　　Can do to words like "God" and "Trust."

　　關于長篇著名詩歌：Scrapbook

　　Kim Addonizio

　　This is me, depressed out of my mind,

　　frailing the banjo, spilling red wine

　　on the white

　　king-sized

　　luckily-hotel's-and-not-my-

　　goose down comforter, this is me

　　walking and waxing nostalgic through the girlish shadows

　　of tall palm trees, the déjà vus

　　flying through the scene

　　suddenly, like those three

　　unnameable and therefore beautiful white birds.

　　This is me as a slowly-tearing-itself-apart cloud

　　and marveling

　　at a fire palely and flamily

　　emerging from a bowl, wavering

　　up through stones of cobalt glass. The air

　　wavers back. This is me in love

　　with the beauty of blue glass in flames, this is me on drugs

　　prescribed by my doctor

　　as I try once more

　　to sneak into night's closely guarded city,

　　my hollow horse ready

　　to wreak my demons and Blue Morphos

　　on the citizens of my sleep. I am most

　　myself when flashing rapidly

　　my iridescent wings, drinking

　　the juice of fallen fruit. Then again

　　look for me under your bed

　　where the ugly premodern vampires

　　still hide. The undead and I are lying

　　in wait. We are very interested in you

　　though this is still me. We are unstable and true.

　　We believe in the one-ton rose

　　and the displaced toilet equally. Our blues

　　assume you understand

　　not much, and try to be alive, just as we do,

　　and that it may be helpful to hold the hand

　　of someone as lost as you.

　　
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