[优美的英语诗歌或短文]优美的简单英语诗歌阅读

【#英语资源# 导语】诗歌是一种运用高度精练、有韵律且富有意象化的语言抒发情感的文学样式,是具有一定外在形式的语言艺术。下面是由®文档大全网带来的优美的简单英语诗歌，欢迎阅读!

【篇一】优美的简单英语诗歌阅读

　　Convergence of the Twain (Lines on the loss of the Titanic)

　　Thomas Hardy

　　I

　　In a solitude of the sea

　　Deep from human vanity，

　　And the Pride of Life that planned her， stilly couches she.

　　II

　　Steel chambers， late the pyres

　　Of her salamandrine fires，

　　Cold currents thrid， and turn to rhythmic tidal lyres.

　　III

　　Over the mirrors meant

　　To glass the opulent

　　The sea-worm crawls——grotesque， slimed， dumb， indifferent.

　　IV

　　Jewels in joy designed

　　To ravish the sensuous mind

　　Lie lightless， all their sparkles bleared and black and blind.

　　V

　　Dim moon-eyed fishes near

　　Gaze at the gilded gear

　　And query： "What does this vaingloriousness down here?". . .

　　VI

　　Well： while was fashioning

　　This creature of cleaving wing，

　　The Immanent Will that stirs and urges everything

　　VII

　　Prepared a sinister mate

　　For her——so gaily great——

　　A Shape of Ice， for the time fat and dissociate

　　VIII

　　And as the smart ship grew

　　In stature， grace， and hue

　　In shadowy silent distance grew the Iceberg too.

　　IX

　　Alien they seemed to be：

　　No mortal eye could see

　　The intimate welding of their later history.

　　X

　　Or sign that they were bent

　　By paths coincident

　　On being anon twin halves of one August event，

　　XI

　　Till the Spinner of the Years

　　Said "Now!" And each one hears，

　　And consummation comes， and jars two hemispheres.

【篇二】优美的简单英语诗歌阅读

　　I Love This Land

　　If I were a bird,

　　I would sing with my hoarse voice

　　Of this land buffeted by storms,

　　Of this river turbulent with our grief,

　　Of these angry winds ceaselessly blowing,

　　And of the dawn, infinitely gentle over the woods…

　　——Then I would die

　　And even my feathers would rot in the soil.

　　Why are my eyes always brimming with tears?

　　Because I love this land so deeply…

【篇三】优美的简单英语诗歌阅读

　　Yet Do I Marvel

　　Countée Cullen

　　I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind,

　　And did He stoop to quibble could tell why

　　The little buried mole continues blind,

　　Why flesh that mirrors Him must some day die,

　　Make plain the reason tortured Tantalus

　　Is bailed by the fickle fruit, declare

　　If merely brute caprice dooms Sisyphus

　　To struggle up a never-ending stair.

　　Inscrutable His ways are, and immune

　　To catechism by a mind too strewn

　　With petty cares to slightly understand

　　What awful brain compels His awful hand

　　Yet do I marvel at this curious thing:

　　To make a poet black, and bid him sing!

优美的简单英语诗歌阅读.doc

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