Question

关于经典英语诗歌朗诵稿

Answer 1

　　英语诗歌是英美文学中的珍宝。在英美文学中,尤其是早期作品中,如史诗及戏剧都是以诗歌的形式出现。欣赏英语诗歌是英语学习的重要部分。我分享，希望可以帮助大家!
　　：Do not stand at my grave and weep 不要在我的墓前哭泣
　　Do not stand at my grave and weep,

　　I am not there, I do not sleep.

　　I am a thousand winds that blow.

　　I am the diamond glints on snow.

　　I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

　　I am the gentle autumn's rain.

　　When you awaken in the morning's hush,

　　I am the swift uplifting rush

　　Of quiet birds in circled flight.

　　I am the soft stars that shine at night.

　　Do not stand at my grave and cry;

　　I am not there, I did not die.
　　：Redeem Time Past 赎回流逝的时光
　　More oft than once death whispered in my ear,

　　Grave what thou hears in diamond and gold:

　　I am that monarch whom all monarchs fear,

　　Who hath in dust their far-stretched pride uprolled;

　　All, all is mine beneath moon's silver sphere,

　　And nought, save virtue, can my power withhold:

　　This, not believed, experience true thee told,

　　By danger late when I to thee came near.

　　As bugbear then my visage I did show,

　　That of my horrors thou right use mightst make,

　　And a more sacred path of living take:

　　Now still walk armed for my ruthless blow,

　　Trust flattering life no more, redeem time past,

　　And live each day as if it were thy last.
　　：A Man of Words and not of Deeds 光说不做
　　A man of words and not of deeds

　　Is like a garden full of weeds,

　　And when the weeds begin to grow,

　　It's like a garden full of snow.

　　And when the snow begins to fall,

　　It's like a bird upon the wall,

　　And when the bird away does fly,

　　It's like an eagle in the sky.

　　And when the sky begins to roar,

　　It's like a lion at the door.

　　And when the door begins to crack,

　　It's like a stick across your back,

　　And when your back begins to *** art,

　　it's like a penknife in your heart.

　　And when your heart begins to bleed,

　　You're dead,

　　You're dead,

　　You're dead indeed.
　　：O Me! O Life! 啊，我!啊，生命!
　　O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;

　　Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;

　　Of myself forever reproaching myself, for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?

　　Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;

　　Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;

　　Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;

　　The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?

　　Answer.

　　That you are here—that life exists, and identity;

　　That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.