William Blake / 威廉.布莱克 To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild fllower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. 从一粒沙子看到一个世界, 从一朵野花看到一个天堂, 把握在你手心里的就是无限, 永恒也就消融

发表于:2019-01-02 / 阅读(81) / 评论(0) 分类 英语诗歌

W.H.Auden / W.H.奥登 Looking up at the stars, I know quite well 仰望群星的时分,我一清二楚, That, for all they care, I can go to hell, 尽管它们关怀备至,我亦有可能赴地府, But on earth indifference is the least 可是尘世间我们丝毫不必畏惧 We have to

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William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850) O blithe New-comer! I have heard, I hear thee and rejoice, O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, From hill to hill it seems to pass, At on

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John Keats (1795 - 1821) My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk: Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being to

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Thomas Hardy (1840-1928) I leant upon a coppice gate When Frost was spectre-gray, And Winters dregs made desolate The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh Had sou

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Andrew Marvell (1621 - 1678) How vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their uncessant labours see Crowned from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow vergd shade Does prudently their toils upbraid, While all f

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E J Scovell (1907 - 1999) I would if I could choose Age and die outwards as a tulip does; Not as this iris drawing in, in-coiling Its complex strange taut inflorescence, willing Itself a bud again - though all achieved is No more than a clenched sad

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Charlotte Mew (1869 - 1928) They are cutting down the great plane-trees at the end of the gardens. For days there has been the grate of the saw, the swish of the branches as they fall, The crash of the trunks, the rustle of trodden leaves, With the

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Robert Herrick (1591-1674) Fair Daffodils, we weep to see You haste away so soon: As yet the early-rising Sun Has not attained his Noon. Stay, stay, Until the hasting day Has run But to the Even-song; And, having prayed together, we Will go with you

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I love you not because of who you are, but because of who I am when I am with you. 我爱你,不是因为你是一个怎样的人,而是因为我喜欢与你在一起时的感觉。 No man or woman is worth your tears, and the one who is, won't make you cry. 没有人值得你流泪,值

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Philip Larkin (1922-1985) She kept her songs, they took so little space, The covers pleased her: One bleached from lying in a sunny place, One marked in circles by a vase of water, One mended, when a tidy fit had seized her, And coloured, by her dau

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Ted Hughes (1930 - 1998) The apes yawn and adore their fleas in the sun. The parrots shriek as if they were on fire, or strut Like cheap tarts to attract the stroller with the nut. Fatigued with indolence, tiger and lion Lie still as the sun. The bo

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Jo Shapcott One day the technicians touched souls as they exchanged everyday noises above the pipette. Then they knew that the state of molecules was not humdrum. The inscriptions on the specimen jars which lined the room in racks took fire in their

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Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806 - 1861) What was he doing, the great god Pan, Down in the reeds by the river? Spreading ruin and scattering ban, Splashing and paddling with hoofs of a goat, And breaking the golden lilies afloat With the dragon-fly

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William Butler Yeats (1865-1939) One that is ever kind said yesterday 'Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey, And little shadows come about her eyes; Time can but make it easier to be wise Though now it seems impossible, and so Patience is al

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William Carlos Williams (1883-1963) Old age is a flight of small cheeping birds skimming bare trees above a snow glaze. Gaining and failing they are buffeted by a dark wind -- But what? On harsh weedstalks the flock has rested -- the snow is covered

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William Carlos Williams (1883-1963) I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold

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Philip Larkin (1922-1985) Cut grass lies frail: Brief is the breath Mown stalks exhale. Long, long the death It dies in the white hours Of young-leafed June With chestnut flowers, With hedges snowlike strewn, White lilac bowed, Lost lanes of Queen A

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William Carlos Williams (1883-1963) As the cat climbed over the top of the jamcloset first the right forefoot carefully then the hind stepped down into the pit of the empty flowerpot

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Robert Burns(17591796) O my luve is like a red, red rose, That's newly sprung in June; O my luve is like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune. As fair thou art, my bonie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' t

发表于:2019-01-02 / 阅读(117) / 评论(0) 分类 英语诗歌