现代大学英语精读第四册 7b
时间:2018-12-18 作者:英语课 分类:128 The Zombie Project
Unit7b The Earth Poet Jesse Stuart
Nothing ever escaped my father, for he was an earth poet who loved the land and everything on it. He liked to watch things grow. From the time I was big enough for him to lead me by the hand, I went with him over the farm. If I couldn’t walk all the way in those early days, he’d carry me on his back. I learned to love many of the things he loved.
Sometime in the dim past of my boyhood, my father unloaded me from his back under some white-oak trees just beginning to leaf. “Look at this hill, son,” he said, gesturing broadly with a sweep of his hand. “Look up that steep hill toward the sky. See how pretty that new-ground corn is.”
This was the first field I can remember my father’s talking me to see. The row of corn curved like dark green rainbows around a high slope with a valley and its little tributaries 1 running down through the center. The corn blades rustled 2 in the wind, and my father said he could understand what the corn blades were saying. He told me they whispered to each other, and this was hard for me to believe. I reasoned that before anything could speak or make a sound it had to have a mouth. When my father said the corn could talk, I got down on my knees and looked a stalk over.
“This corn hasn’t got a mouth,” I told my father. “how can anything talk when doesn’t have a mouth?”
He laughed like the wind in the corn and hugged me to his knees, and we went on.
The one thing my father brought me to see that delighted him most was the pumpkins 3. I’d never seen so many pumpkins with long necks and small bodies. Pumpkins as big around as the bottom of a flour barrel were sitting in the furrows 4 beneath the tall corn, immovable as rocks. There were pumpkins, and more pumpkins, of all colors – yellow and white, green and brown.
“Look at this, won’t you,” my father said. “Look what corn, what beans, what pumpkins. Corn ears so big they lean the cornstalks. Beans as thick as honey-locust 5 beans on the honey-locust tree. And pumpkins thicker than the stumps 7 in this new ground. I could walk all over this field on pumpkins and never step on the ground.”
He looked upon the beauty of this cove 8 he had cleared and his three crops growing here. He rarely figured a field in dollars and cents. Although he never wasted a dollar; money didn’t mean everything to him. He liked to see the beauty of growing thins on the land. He carried this beauty in his mind.
Once, when we were talking between cornfields on a rainy Sunday afternoon, he pointed 9 to a redbird on its nest in a locust tree, a redbird with shiny red feathers against the dark background of a nest. It was just another bird’s nest to me until he whispered, “ever see anything as pretty as what the raindrop do to that redbird sitting on her dark nest?” from this day on, I have liked to see birds, especially redbirds, sitting on their nests in the rain. But my father was the one to make me see the beauty.
“A blacksnake is a pretty thing,” he once said to me, “so shiny and black in the spring sun after he sheds his winter skin.”
He was the first man I ever heard say a snake was pretty. I never forgot his saying it. I can even remember the thicket 10 where he saw the blacksnake.
He saw more beauty in trees than any man I have ever known. He would walk through a strange forest laying his hand upon the trees, saying this oak or that pine, that beech 11 or poplar, was a beautiful tree. Then he would single out other trees and say they should be cut. He would always give his reasons for cutting a tree: too many trees on a root stool, too thick, one damaged by fire at the butt 12, one leaning against another, too many on the ground, or the soil not deep enough above a ledge 13 of rocks to support them.
Then there were the hundreds of times my father took me to the hills to see wild flowers. I thought it was silly at first. He would sit on a dead log, maybe one covered with wild moss 14, somewhere under the tall beech trees, listening to the wind in the canopy 15 of leaves above, looking at a clump 16 of violets of percoon growing beside a rooted log. He could sit there enjoying himself indefinitely. Only when the sun went down would we get up and start for home. Father wouldn’t break the Sabbath by working, except in an emergency. He would follow a cow that was overdue 17 to calve. He would watch over ewes in the same manner. He followed them to the high cliffs and helped them deliver their lambs, saving their lives. He would do such things on Sundays, and he would fight forest fires. But he always said he could make a living working six days in the week. Yet he was restless on Sundays. He had to walk around and look over his fields and enjoy them.
My father didn’t have to travel over the country searching for something beautiful to see. He didn’t have to go away to find beauty, for he found everywhere around him. He had eyes to find it. He had a mind to know it. He had a heart to appreciate it. He was an uneducated poet of this earth. And if anybody had told him that he was, he wouldn’t have understood. He would have understood. He would have turned and walked away without saying anything.
In winter, when snow was over the ground, and the stars glistened 18, he’d go to the barn to feed the livestock 19 at four in the morning. I have seen him put corn in the feedboxes for the horses and mules 20, then go out and stand look at the morning moon. He once told me he always kept a horse with a flaxen mane and tail because he liked to see one run in the moonlight with his mane arched high and his tail floating on the wind.
When spring returned, he was always taking me someplace to show me a new tree he had found, or a pretty red mushroom growing on a rotting stump 6 in some deep hollow. He found so many strange and beautiful things that I tried to rival him by making discoveries, too. I looked into the out-of-the-way and unexpected places to find the beautiful and the unusual.
I didn’t get the idea of dead leaves being golden ships on the sea from a storybook. And neither did my father, for he had never read a book in his life. He’d never had a book read to him either. I was in October, and we were sitting on the bank of W – Branch. We were watching the blue autumn water slide swiftly over the slate 21 rocks. My father picked up leaves that were shaped like little ships and dropped them into the water.
“These are ships on swift water,” he told me, “going to far-off lands where strangers will see them.” He had a special love for autumn leaves, and he’d picked up leaves when we were out walking and ask me to identify them. He’d talk about how pretty each leaf was and how a leaf was prettier after it was dead than when it was alive and growing.
Many people thought my father was just a one-horse farmer who never got much out of life. They saw only a little man, dressed in clean, patched overalls 22, with callused and brier-scratched hands. They often saw the beard along his face. And they saw him go off and just stand in a field and look at something. They thought he was moody 23. Well, he was that all right, but when he was standing 24 there and people thought he was looking into space, he was looking at a flower or a mushroom or a new bug 25 he’d discovered for the first time. And when he looked up into a tree, he wasn’t searching for a hornet’s nest to burn a bird’s nest to rob. He wasn’t trying to find a bee tree. He was just looking closely at the beauty in a tree. And among the millions, he always found one different enough to excite him.
No one who really knew him ever felt sorry for my father. Any feeling of pity turned to envy. For my father had a world of his own, larger and richer than the vast earth that world travelers know. He found more beauty in his acres and square miles than poets who have written a half-dozen books. Only my father couldn’t write down the words to express his thoughts. He had no common symbols by which to share his wealth. He was a poet who lived his life upon this earth and never left a line of poetry – expect to those of us who lived with him.
Jesse Stuart(1907 – ) was born in the Kentucky hills and spent most of his life in Kentucky hill country, writing about the land and the people that he knew and loved. In this essay, he makes us see the unexpected genius of a poor farmer – his own father.
- In such areas small tributaries or gullies will not show. 在这些地区,小的支流和冲沟显示不出来。
- These tributaries are subsequent streams which erode strike valley. 这些支流系即为蚀出走向谷的次生河。
- He rustled his papers. 他把试卷弄得沙沙地响。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- Leaves rustled gently in the breeze. 树叶迎着微风沙沙作响。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- I like white gourds, but not pumpkins. 我喜欢吃冬瓜,但不喜欢吃南瓜。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- Then they cut faces in the pumpkins and put lights inside. 然后在南瓜上刻出一张脸,并把瓜挖空。 来自英语晨读30分(高三)
- I could tell from the deep furrows in her forehead that she was very disturbed by the news. 从她额头深深的皱纹上,我可以看出她听了这个消息非常不安。 来自《简明英汉词典》
- Dirt bike trails crisscrossed the grassy furrows. 越野摩托车的轮迹纵横交错地布满条条草沟。 来自辞典例句
- A locust is a kind of destructive insect.蝗虫是一种害虫。
- This illustration shows a vertical section through the locust.本图所示为蝗虫的纵剖面。
- He went on the stump in his home state.他到故乡所在的州去发表演说。
- He used the stump as a table.他把树桩用作桌子。
- Rocks and stumps supplied the place of chairs at the picnic. 野餐时石头和树桩都充当了椅子。
- If you don't stir your stumps, Tom, you'll be late for school again. 汤姆,如果你不快走,上学又要迟到了。
- The shore line is wooded,olive-green,a pristine cove.岸边一带林木蓊郁,嫩绿一片,好一个山外的小海湾。
- I saw two children were playing in a cove.我看到两个小孩正在一个小海湾里玩耍。
- He gave me a very sharp pointed pencil.他给我一支削得非常尖的铅笔。
- She wished to show Mrs.John Dashwood by this pointed invitation to her brother.她想通过对达茨伍德夫人提出直截了当的邀请向她的哥哥表示出来。
- A thicket makes good cover for animals to hide in.丛林是动物的良好隐蔽处。
- We were now at the margin of the thicket.我们现在已经来到了丛林的边缘。
- Autumn is the time to see the beech woods in all their glory.秋天是观赏山毛榉林的最佳时期。
- Exasperated,he leaped the stream,and strode towards beech clump.他满腔恼怒,跳过小河,大踏步向毛榉林子走去。
- The water butt catches the overflow from this pipe.大水桶盛接管子里流出的东西。
- He was the butt of their jokes.他是他们的笑柄。
- They paid out the line to lower him to the ledge.他们放出绳子使他降到那块岩石的突出部分。
- Suddenly he struck his toe on a rocky ledge and fell.突然他的脚趾绊在一块突出的岩石上,摔倒了。
- Moss grows on a rock.苔藓生在石头上。
- He was found asleep on a pillow of leaves and moss.有人看见他枕着树叶和苔藓睡着了。
- The trees formed a leafy canopy above their heads.树木在他们头顶上空形成了一个枝叶茂盛的遮篷。
- They lay down under a canopy of stars.他们躺在繁星点点的天幕下。
- A stream meandered gently through a clump of trees.一条小溪从树丛中蜿蜒穿过。
- It was as if he had hacked with his thick boots at a clump of bluebells.仿佛他用自己的厚靴子无情地践踏了一丛野风信子。
- The plane is overdue and has been delayed by the bad weather.飞机晚点了,被坏天气耽搁了。
- The landlady is angry because the rent is overdue.女房东生气了,因为房租过期未付。
- Pearls of dew glistened on the grass. 草地上珠露晶莹。 来自《现代汉英综合大词典》
- Her eyes glistened with tears. 她的眼里闪着泪花。 来自《现代汉英综合大词典》
- Both men and livestock are flourishing.人畜两旺。
- The heavy rains and flooding killed scores of livestock.暴雨和大水淹死了许多牲口。
- The cart was pulled by two mules. 两匹骡子拉这辆大车。
- She wore tight trousers and high-heeled mules. 她穿紧身裤和拖鞋式高跟鞋。
- The nominating committee laid its slate before the board.提名委员会把候选人名单提交全体委员会讨论。
- What kind of job uses stained wood and slate? 什么工作会接触木头污浊和石板呢?
- He is in overalls today.他今天穿的是工作裤。
- He changed his overalls for a suit.他脱下工装裤,换上了一套西服。
- He relapsed into a moody silence.他又重新陷于忧郁的沉默中。
- I'd never marry that girl.She's so moody.我决不会和那女孩结婚的。她太易怒了。