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        學(xué)習(xí)啦 > 學(xué)習(xí)英語(yǔ) > 英語(yǔ)閱讀 > 英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌 > 關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌精選

        關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌精選

        時(shí)間: 韋彥867 分享

        關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌精選

          英語(yǔ)詩(shī)歌作為文學(xué)的表現(xiàn)形式之一,在分類、節(jié)奏、韻律、構(gòu)思、詞序、選詞等方面都自成體系,以自己獨(dú)特的形式展示著詩(shī)人對(duì)生活的理解。學(xué)習(xí)啦小編整理了關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌,歡迎閱讀!

          關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌篇一

          On the Skeleton of a Hound

          by James Wright

          Nightfall, that saw the morning-glories float

          Tendril and string against the crumbling wall,

          Nurses him now, his skeleton for grief,

          His locks for comfort curled among the leaf.

          Shuttles of moonlight weave his shadow tall,

          Milkweed and dew flow upward to his throat.

          Now catbird feathers plume the apple mound,

          And starlings drowse to winter up the ground.

          thickened away from speech by fear, I move

          Around the body. Over his forepaws, steep

          Declivities darken down the moonlight now,

          And the long throat that bayed a year ago

          Declines from summer. Flies would love to leap

          Between his eyes and hum away the space

          Between the ears, the hollow where a hare

          Could hide; another jealous dog would tumble

          The bones apart, angry, the shining crumble

          Of a great body gleaming in the air;

          Quivering pigeons foul his broken face.

          I can imagine men who search the earth

          For handy resurrections, overturn

          The body of a beetle in its grave;

          Whispering men digging for gods might delve

          A pocket for these bones, then slowly burn

          Twigs in the leaves, pray for another birth.

          But I will turn my face away from this

          Ruin of summer, collapse of fur and bone.

          For once a white hare huddled up the grass,

          The sparrows flocked away to see the race.

          I stood on darkness, clinging to a stone,

          I saw the two leaping alive on ice,

          On earth, on leaf, humus and withered vine:

          The rabbit splendid in a shroud of shade,

          The dog carved on the sunlight, on the air,

          Fierce and magnificent his rippled hair,

          The cockleburs shaking around his head.

          Then, suddenly, the hare leaped beyond pain

          Out of the open meadow, and the hound

          Followed the voiceless dancer to the moon,

          To dark, to death, to other meadows where

          Singing young women dance around a fire,

          Where love reveres the living.

          I alone

          Scatter this hulk about the dampened ground;

          And while the moon rises beyond me, throw

          The ribs and spine out of their perfect shape.

          For a last charm to the dead, I lift the skull

          And toss it over the maples like a ball.

          Strewn to the woods, now may that spirit sleep

          That flamed over the ground a year ago.

          I know the mole will heave a shinbone over,

          The earthworm snuggle for a nap on paws,

          The honest bees build honey in the head;

          The earth knows how to handle the great dead

          Who lived the body out, and broke its laws,

          Knocked down a fence, tore up a field of clover

          關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌篇二

          On the Persistence of the Letter as a Form

          by Paul Guest

          Dear murderous world, dear gawking heart,

          I never wrote back to you, not one word

          wrenched itself free of my fog-draped mind

          to dab in ink the day's dull catalog

          of ruin. Take back the ten-speed bike

          which bent like a child's cheap toy

          beneath me. Accept as your own

          the guitar that was smashed over my brother,

          who writes now from jail in Savannah,

          who I cannot begin to answer. Here

          is the beloved pet who died at my feet

          and there, outside my window,

          is where my mother buried it in a coffin

          meant for a newborn. Upon

          my family, raw and vigilant, visit numbness.

          Of numbness I know enough.

          And to you I've now written too much,

          dear cloud of thalidomide,

          dear spoon trembling at the mouth,

          dear marble-eyed doll never answering back

          關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌篇三

          Narrow Flame

          by Linda Gregerson

          Dark still. Twelve degrees below freezing.

          Tremor along the elegant, injured right front

          leg of the gelding on the cross-ties. Kneeling girl.

          The undersong of waters as she bathes

          the leg in yet more cold. [tongue is broken] [god to me]

          Her hair the color of winter wheat

          關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌篇四

          Naming

          by Nancy Mairs

          Let me tell you this once

          (I will not be able to say it again):

          I have lost the meaning of words.

          Heavy, they ripped away from the sounds,

          fell into cracked ground. For weeks

          I scratched but what I dug up was

          bicycle spokes, black melon rinds,

          a smashed doll face——it was not meaning.

          I don't know what I am saying.

          I exaggerate. Not everything is gone.

          I still know perfectly what sugar means,

          and pine needle. Laughter is more

          of a problem. And yellow often slides,

          a plate of butter in the sun.

          The meaning of flower has gone entirely;

          so has the meaning of love. Now it is safe

          to say: I love you. Now it is true

          關(guān)于著名的英文詩(shī)歌篇五

          On the Skeleton of a Hound

          by James Wright

          Nightfall, that saw the morning-glories float

          Tendril and string against the crumbling wall,

          Nurses him now, his skeleton for grief,

          His locks for comfort curled among the leaf.

          Shuttles of moonlight weave his shadow tall,

          Milkweed and dew flow upward to his throat.

          Now catbird feathers plume the apple mound,

          And starlings drowse to winter up the ground.

          thickened away from speech by fear, I move

          Around the body. Over his forepaws, steep

          Declivities darken down the moonlight now,

          And the long throat that bayed a year ago

          Declines from summer. Flies would love to leap

          Between his eyes and hum away the space

          Between the ears, the hollow where a hare

          Could hide; another jealous dog would tumble

          The bones apart, angry, the shining crumble

          Of a great body gleaming in the air;

          Quivering pigeons foul his broken face.

          I can imagine men who search the earth

          For handy resurrections, overturn

          The body of a beetle in its grave;

          Whispering men digging for gods might delve

          A pocket for these bones, then slowly burn

          Twigs in the leaves, pray for another birth.

          But I will turn my face away from this

          Ruin of summer, collapse of fur and bone.

          For once a white hare huddled up the grass,

          The sparrows flocked away to see the race.

          I stood on darkness, clinging to a stone,

          I saw the two leaping alive on ice,

          On earth, on leaf, humus and withered vine:

          The rabbit splendid in a shroud of shade,

          The dog carved on the sunlight, on the air,

          Fierce and magnificent his rippled hair,

          The cockleburs shaking around his head.

          Then, suddenly, the hare leaped beyond pain

          Out of the open meadow, and the hound

          Followed the voiceless dancer to the moon,

          To dark, to death, to other meadows where

          Singing young women dance around a fire,

          Where love reveres the living.

          I alone

          Scatter this hulk about the dampened ground;

          And while the moon rises beyond me, throw

          The ribs and spine out of their perfect shape.

          For a last charm to the dead, I lift the skull

          And toss it over the maples like a ball.

          Strewn to the woods, now may that spirit sleep

          That flamed over the ground a year ago.

          I know the mole will heave a shinbone over,

          The earthworm snuggle for a nap on paws,

          The honest bees build honey in the head;

          The earth knows how to handle the great dead

          Who lived the body out, and broke its laws,

          Knocked down a fence, tore up a field of clover

          
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